Madness is the gift, that has been given to me
by MasterKaycee
Summary: Insanity takes its toll on a perpetually teen aged Malkavian.
1. Chapter 1

A car passes by. Flashy and fast, with a booming stereo. I can smell the liquor stink of the driver from the roadside. Keeping my head down, I think to myself: Nope. Not what I'm in the mood for. I need someone innocent. Maybe someone with a family. I giggle. Why not? A older SUV is approaching. A total dad van, going the speed limit. This holds a possibility. I stick my thumb out. The car passes me but hesitates. I grin inwardly as the brake lights flash. The SUV has one of those stupid family stickers on the back. Daddy, mommy, big brother and little sister. Even a freaking goldfish. I amble to the drivers window with my most wide eyed innocence face. The driver's a scholarly type. Glasses, brown hair with a hint of grey. Maybe late 40's. Handsome even.

"Can I help you young lady?" his voice is filled with sincere worry. Perfect.

"I'm sorry to stop you, sir." I furrow my brow and let moisture fill my eyes. "I got in a fight with my boyfriend and he kicked me out of the car. I left my purse, my cell phone...everything in there. I just want to get home."

His concern is practically tangible. "Of course, miss. A young lady shouldn't be walking out on her own this time of night. I'll give you a ride. This town can be dangerous."

Oh, you have no idea. I climb into the passenger seat and make a show of buckling my seat belt. The driver's listening to some podunk country station. If I wasn't sure about killing you before I certainly am now!

"My name is Darren, I teach at the local college."

I stick my hand out to shake his. "I'm Madelyn." He asks where I'm headed and I rattle off an address of the top of my head. The drive there is uneventful until he pulls in front of the obviously abandoned house I've led him to.

"This is where you live?" he asks, confused.

"No, but I'm pretty sure this is where you'll die." I give him a minute to absorb my words before cold cocking him. I snort laughter at my own corniness before going about my business.

Professor Darren is finally coming to. He mumbles something groggily. "Hey Darren. How ya feeling? Is the rope too tight?" I emphasis the situation by giving the rope around his ankle an extra yank. He's spread out beautifully on a scuffed up pool table. Like a flesh covered present that I'm almost vibrating with anticipation to unwrap.

"What is this? What's going on? Wh...mpphhpt!" I shove the pre positioned ball gag into his mouth. Sometimes I'm just not in the mood for the what, why and how. I'm more in the mood for the muffled screams, tears and looks of terror that go hand in hand with my playtimes. He's struggling but I've tied my knots well. I've had lots of practice after all. His struggling ceases when he sees the Ka-bar. I rub my thumb along the familiar handle and smile pleasantly as I bring the blade tip to his stomach. Now Professor Darren attempts to thrash as I begin to part layers of his flesh. Oh. Oh there it is. Richer than the most robust wine. I continue cutting. Using a well taught technique to slowly flay the skin from the muscle. His struggles barely hinder my handiwork. Within minutes I've flayed the majority of skin from his torso. I hum disjointedly to myself as I run my fingers along the open musculature of his chest. Mmm. I'm getting so hungry. I tease the blade down one hipbone, drawing a thin line of blood. The good professor's penis lies distractingly limp at the apex of his spread thighs. I scrunch my face up and bring the blade between his legs. His eyes bulge and his previously muffled cries ascend to a bat sonar shriek as I slash through the cord at the base of his manhood and remove it with a careless yank. I make sure he gets an eyeful before tossing the useless hunk of meat aside. I continue the flaying along his pelvis and upper thighs until he gives a hearty jerk and the knife slips along his femoral artery. Whoops. The spray of blood is like a fountain, hitting me full force in the face and coating me with dripping red. I drop my knife onto the table and run my hand over my face, staring at the film of blood before licking a stripe clean along my palm. Snap. Frenzied lust. I vault on top of the mess that is Professor Darren and jam my hands into his pectoral muscles, relishing the crack of ribs before I bury my face in his chest cavity lapping and biting at the frantically beating heart. It's too soon that the heart stops beating and the flow of blood ceases. I lift my head from his carcass, covered with Darren's blood. Sigh. I'm sated, perhaps even gorged. I pout momentarily, wishing I had prolonged the play. Pushing a hank of blood soaked hair out of my face I grab Darren's wallet, checking his license for an address to leave a present for his family to find in the morning. Good. Only a few miles down the street. I grab my blade from the table and toss it into my open bag. Hmph. Didn't even get to use my belt sander. I take the bag to the SUV and use Darren's keys to open the hatchback. Going back into the house, I untie his body and heft it over my shoulder. A minute later, with Darren's mutilated corpse in the back I settle into the drivers seat and pull out of the driveway. Briefly catching a glimpse of my clothes I realize I probably should of cleaned myself up a bit before taking off. I laugh aloud. Flipping the radio to a more suitable station I catch Mick Jagger singing of painting it black and turning his head until his darkness goes. If only it was that easy...

I can the sense the cop behind me is going to pull me over before he even flicks the lights on. This should be interesting. Stolen SUV, dead body in the back. Oh, and the fact that I'm covered in blood head to toe. I pull over to the curb as my face can't help but split open into a vicious grin. The cop comes to the window "License and regis..." his words drop off as he sees my face. Within a split second he backs up a step and I fling the door open and leap at him, slamming him against the cruiser. His hand reaches for his gun before I grab it and break his fingers. I smell the sharp scent of urine as he pisses himself in fear. The cop hitches in a breath to scream and I lunge forward and rip his esophagus out with my teeth. His body is thrashing against mine as I take a few swallows. Ugh. I'm too full for this. I drop his twitching body on the ground and look at him for a few moments with my head cocked to the side in contemplation. Ok. He's a gone goose. I open the drivers door to the cruiser and rip the dashboard camera off and crush it.

Spotting a navy blue rain sicker I slip it on over my blood soaked clothes and pull the hood up. Guess I'm walking. Looking up at the street sign I realize I'm close to a Gangrel friend's house. I check my pockets for the spare key I was entrusted to. Looks like I'm gonna be encroaching on his hospitality again. I keep to the darker side of the sidewalk, cutting through the neighborhood until I reach a copse of trees. Following a barely noticable path through the woods, the looming Victorian comes into my view in no time. Slipping my key in the lock, I swing the door open. Mongrel looks up from the desk he's drawing at. I say nothing, giving a tentative smile as I try to keep my blood drenched clothes from dripping on the carpet. After a beat, he points to the bathroom "Don't use all the hot water this time." and returns his attention to his art. I close the door behind me and head towards the bathroom. Passing Mongrel, he gives a hearty sniff and I catch an almost imperceptible smirk. I giggle and prepare to wash off the remains of my bloody and boisterous night.


	2. Chapter 2

I'm sitting in the diner watching the waitress. My coffee and pie slice sits untouched in front of me. I've got my eyes set on a different kind of snack. She works the night shift, just about every night. Her shift ends in a little over a half hour, and afterwards her fiancee will pick her up. I've been scoping out this couple for a few weeks before I made my plan. I decided to dispatch with the fiancee quickly before spending my time with his wife to be.

I watch as the waitress flits from table to table, always with a smile on her face. Her name is Marie. At twenty minutes until quitting time the fiancee comes in and surprises her with flowers and a kiss. I watch unobtrusively, smiling down at my untouched plate. I hear him say he'll be at the car. It's a nice night to be outside. Five minutes after he walks out I rise from my window seat and follow his scent around to the employee parking lot. He's leaning against the trunk immersed in what must be an compelling text message. "Hey, Steve!"

He looks up and I see brief perplexity on his face. "Um, hi. Do I know you?"

I smile. "I'm Madelyn. A friend of Marie's."

"Oh!" he returns my smile and I shake his outstretched hand. He and I exchange pleasantries and small talk for a few moments. "Well, Marie's about to get off if you want to stick around and hang." "

Thanks but I've got somewhere else to be. I just wanted to introduce myself to the guy she talks about so much." I continue, grinning. "It was great to finally meet you". I reach my arms out for a hug and he responds in kind. I hear the acceleration of his heart as I tighten the embrace.

"What the..?" His heart sounds like an over enthused marching band as I turn my arms into a vice and sink my teeth into the side of his face. Gnashing and ripping, I shred his cheek and his left eye bursts under my fangs. I pull my head back and glance at him, wondering why he hasn't screamed. I notice the bubbling quality of his breathing and the light spray of blood that comes from each desperate exhale. Oops. I give one last crunching squeeze and drop his corpse after the gasp of his last death rattle. Guess that's what you call killing them with kindness. Baying with laughter, I look around guiltily. That was an awful pun...even for me.

Now, gotta clean up a bit before the main course gets out here. I prop Steve up in the drivers seat, buckling the seat belt to better hold up his crushed top half. Shutting the drivers side door, I take my spot hidden in the gloom by the dumpster. Ten minutes pass and I start to get antsy when I hear the familiar clip clopping of Maria's after work sandals. I give her a moment to take in the scene. She looks though the open window and the smile slowly melts off her face as she takes in her half-faceless, pulverized former groom to be. In the second it takes for her jaw to drop open in a scream I ambush her. Covering her mouth with one hand and wrapping my arm around her waist I drag her backwards into the wooded area behind the diner. She's whimpering and trying to dig her feet into the ground to thwart my movements. I give her face a threatening squeeze, not enough to break bone. I feel a fissure open on the side of her cheek bone. Whoops. Well maybe enough to fracture. Tears are pouring down Marie's face and I can't help but take a lick as I push her against the tree I plan on binding her to. Ah, the sweet salt taste of misery. "Now, I've come to a predicament. I need to restrain you but if I take my hand off your mouth you'll scream. Hmm...what to do." A wicked smile creeps onto my face. "Oh! I know!" I remove my hand from her mouth. Poor Maria's sputtering and spewing out pathetic mewling inquiries.

"Why? Why are you doing this!? Please!"

I take advantage of her open mouth and thrust my hand in between her jaws. Damn slippery thing! I gain purchase on her tongue and with a vigorous yank I pull the muscle from her throat. Her questions have been reduced to inarticulate moaning. I reach into my messenger bag and pull out a handy length of rope, making short work of trussing her upright to the thick tree trunk. She's desperately trying to convey something to me through her mumbling but I don't have the patience or tolerance to try to decode her hoots and howls. I dig through my bag, pulling out my Ka-bar. Using just the tip of the blade I cut open her waitress uniform, exposing a truly lovely jade green bra and panty set. "Expecting a hot night with Steve?" Snorting laughter, I slip the blade in between the cups of her bra and saw away until her breasts are exposed. I see the flash of embarrassed fear in her eyes. "Hey don't worry, you're actually like, really pretty." Not wanting to make her unnecessarily uncomfortable, I quickly cut away her panties in the same manner and run my fingertips along the soft skin of her slight paunch. "Been indulging in too many slices of diner pie?" Poor Marie is nearly frozen with fear as my blade dances along her stomach. My impatience gets the best of me as I draw the blade to the hollow spot right under her sternum. I drive the blade in just an inch or two and she squeals. I look deep into her eyes and thrust the knife in to the hilt. Mmm. Savor. Gotta take my time. I slowly pull the blade downward, opening a rift in her gut. The blood and bile makes a gentle pattering sound as it pours from the growing wound to soak into the dirt under our feet. The air has taken on a metallic scent that makes my mouth water. When my blade reaches her pubis I pull it out and set it on the ground. I pull apart the sides of her stomach and dig my hand around in her innards. Damn intestines always getting in the way. I loop a couple coils of intestine around her neck. "Hold these for me." I giggle. I pause when I reach her uterus. Cocking my head to the side in curiosity I place a few fingertips on her womb. Oh, my! Looking into Marie's dying eyes, the hunger creeping into my voice "Congratulations...mommy." I pull the apogee of her femininity out of her body and use my nails to claw open the organ. I've always enjoyed veal. Just like the trinket in a slice of King Cake.


	3. Chapter 3

It's after midnight. I'm following the coordinates on my GPS to a secluded clearing in the forest to meet...what was his name again? Dillon, right. Whatever. Doesn't matter. Some poor sap who thinks he's getting lucky tonight. More like, he'll be lucky if I make it quick for him. The real reason I agreed to this midnight foray into the woods has a lot to do with Dillon's position as Scout Leader. As in, Cub Scouts. As in, a half dozen delectable nummy treats ranging from 8 to 11 years old. Oh, sweet mystery of life at last I found you.

I smell them before I even catch sight of the tents. Licking my lips in anticipation I switch my bag to the other shoulder and approach the tent I know my Scout Leader is in. I slowly run my nails along the tent fabric and whisper "Little pig, little pig. Let me come in."

I hear a shuffling inside the tent and his voice comes from the other side of the door flap. "Not by the hair of my chinny chin chin. And who are you calling a pig?" The zipper comes down and Dillon pulls me down on the sleeping bag next to him. He's kinda cute for a human, I guess. Dirty blond hair, eyes the color of dark coffee, body ropey with muscle. Wonder if he'll put up much of a fight? "You're my greedy little piggy." I say with a smirk. Despite my awkward attempt at flirting, he responds with a flurry of kissing and touching. I respond in a way I know is appropriate, but my mind is elsewhere. Distracted by the six little boys in the tents nearby. Only in the most violent sense, of course. I'm a psychopath...not a pedophile. I roll on top of Dillon's eager form. Slowly nibbling my way to his throat, he lets out a quiet moan as I sink my fangs into his soft throat. I take deep swallows of his sweet plasma as I feel the deep, tittering need bubbling its way to the surface. I trace a hand down his chest tantalizingly, pausing at his sternum. His moans of pleasure turn into a shriek that pierces the night as I thrust a fist into his chest. He puts up decent struggle, actually managing to get a hand around my throat before I dig my claws into his heart and pop it like a water balloon.

I hear inquiring young voices, sleepy and confused, outside the tent. Removing my forearm from Dillon's chest cavity, I step out of the tent. The young boys take in the sight of my gore streaked limb and the blood around my mouth.

The oldest boy grabs the two closest to him and frantically starts dragging them along. "Toby! Andrew! C'mon, run! RUN!" Two of the other boys take off in another direction. The most terrified of the six is still rooted to the spot. His body trembles like a sapling in high winds. The fear comes off of him in intoxicating waves.

I bend down into a squat, beckoning to him. "Come here kid. Come to me and it will be quick for you." He approaches me. Still quivering he steps into my embrace. I place my hand in his wispy hair, bending his head back. My fangs penetrate his soft neck and I let the sweet nectar run into my mouth for several moments. He whimpers in pain, and I reply: "Shut it. I said I'd make it quick." through a mouthful of his flesh. Pulling my face away from his I snap his neck in a brisk movement. The young body falls to the ground and I straighten myself and tilt my head to the wind, breathing in deeply. The two boys haven't gotten far. They went with the tactic of hiding rather than trying to run for help. I reach back into the tent and grab my bag, pulling out a collapsible steel truncheon and a wrist crossbow. I'm fairly excited to use the crossbow. It's crude but I need something to hinder one while I'm dealing with the other. Trekking further through the trees, I follow the sharp scent of the boys terror. I find one at the bottom of a tall pine. He doesn't see me so I scan the area for the other boy. I smell him but...wait. Looking up in the tree I see the older of the two perched on a branch with a heavy looking rock in his hands. Oh what endearing little Cub Scouts! I suppose they were planning to attempt an ambush. Too cute. I point my crossbow into the tree, centering in between rock boys eyes. I let the steel tipped mini arrow fly. Bulls eye. His corpse falls from the tree onto the ground in front of the other boy. The boy opens his mouth to scream and I'm in front of him in an instant, whipping the truncheon across his face, knocking out most of his teeth and turning his screams into warbling. Theatrically, I taunt the child. "Are you trying to sing me a song, boy? What will your mommy and daddy sing when they find your carcass?" I grab him by the shoulders and bite into his throat, tearing a large chunk of flesh away. His jugular sprays me with fresh blood and I toss him to the side to let him bleed out into the dirt. I nudge the other boy with my toe. Ok. No more crossbow. Too quick and boring. I let my nose take in the aroma of the other three boys, a bit further in the opposite direction. I set off after them at a brisk pace, but not a full run. I want them to feel that flicker of hope that they might get out alive. Pawing through my bag as I trot along I stow the blood stained truncheon and crossbow and grab my taser. Perfect. Enough juice to subdue, but not kill. Not until I'm ready.

I hear the boys sneakers thudding through the loam and the frantic beating of their hearts as I close in on them. I point my taser at the slower of the three and take him down as I leap into a tackle and land on the back of the skinniest boy. The oldest makes it past me, stumbles a few times when he dares to look back but rights himself and darts deeper into the woods. That's fine, I've got all night. I rise from the dirt, pulling the boy along with me to stop in front of his friend, still dazed from the taser shot. "Yoohoo, Toby. Here's a sneak peek of what's coming to you. Spoiler alert: you're going to die." I force my captive to his knees and place the tips of my nails along his jawline. In one vicious movement I dig the nails in and pull up, stripping the flesh of his face from his skull. They boys are shrieking in surround sound as I bend down to lap the blood from the top of his forehead. I giggle and pull a blade from my bag. I quickly deliver a dozen stabs to the boys chest before moving to the tasered boy. He must of bounced back quick because he lands a punch to my ribs before I convey a kick that shatters his femur, forcing the fractured bone deliciously through the skin. I squat over his fallen figure, crushing his flailing arms under my feet. I draw the blade across his throat, cutting deep, almost decapitating him but not quite. Digging my hand into the wound I reach up and pull the root of the tongue through the opening. I've always wondered what a Colombian necktie looked like. I double over in laughter. Leaping to my feet, I once again stow my blade for a simple length of fishing line. This last one will be an easy find. I catch the last boy easily. He's winded, and doesn't even notice I'm there until I slip the fishing line around his neck and pull it taut. I hold it long enough for his face to turn from red to a deep purple as he drops to his knees unconscious. I release the line and shove it in my pocket while flipping the boy onto his stomach. I procure my filleting knife from my back and make brisk, broad incisions along his spine. Once the spine is exposed I gnaw away the ligaments and such that attach the spinal cord to the rest of his parts. The boy groans from underneath me, rising from unconsciousness. "Oh no you don't. You're not messing up my beautiful work!" I wrench the spinal cord from his back and swing it against his head, over and over until his skull is pulverized by his own back bone. I stand, shaking clots of flesh and slivers of bone from my hair as I ponder my options. Decision made, I collect both boys and heft them over my shoulder, smiling as I head back to the camp area. Within a half hour I have all six boys reconvened. Humming an old Johnny Mathis tune to myself I pull coils of heavy rope from my bag, tying off a line of it in between two trees. I lift and tether, using craftiness that Cub Scout leader Dillon would be proud of. With three hours until dawn my work is done. I make sure all of my toys are packed away as I heft my bag onto my should and take off towards civilization. The daisy chain of Cub Scouts swaying gently in between the trees.


	4. Chapter 4

Against what's probably my better judgement, I tag along with Mongrel to Elysium. I've been once or twice but honestly haven't made an effort to...eh...integrate with the other Kindred? I'm told I shouldn't be a recluse. A murderous, psychopathic lunatic maybe. But not a recluse. Pfft.

There's a new procedure at the door. Metal detectors, pat downs...the works. Heh, good thing I had the foresight to not bring any of my toys. I'm trying to behave myself, after all. As I enter the club I'm momentarily distracted by the mood lighting and pounding bass of the music. Oh my. There's more than a few mortals here, tonight. My decision to gorge myself before heading out was a good idea. I'm broken out of my inner fugue by familiar, shrill laughter. I check in with my mind-bogglingly cheerful primogen, Serendipity. As I have on prior occasions, I find myself partly annoyed and partly envious of his seemingly constant joyous manner. Why couldn't I have ended up a happy lunatic, instead of...eh...whatever. I'm approached by another fellow Malkavian. He introduces himself as Trevor. Seems tolerable. His demeanor could almost pass for sanity. He departs and I'm scanning the room for Mongrel, feeling unnerved. Before spotting him I catch the most appealing scent. Subtle floral with mouthwatering sweet tones. I spot a lovely young mortal following closely behind a large affable looking Kindred. Her head is down, her two pigtails sweeping her shoulders. I smile, hungrily. What a perfect excuse to socialize! I approach them both and introduce myself. The servants name is Rose. "How delicious...ah..nice to meet you." My slip of the tongue is marked by a squeeze at my elbow. I glance to my side and Mongrel's there, giving me his patented warning glare. Ah, piss. The four of us make small talk. Luckily Guillame doesn't seem too peeved at my hunger directed towards his servant. As they walk away I take a few unintentional steps to follow before catching another glare. I pout, but follow Mongrel to a spot against the wall. As I watch the throng of Kindred and Kine, my eyes continue to tick over to Rose. I seem to be one of the only people that notices her so thoroughly. She appears to meander around but under her bowed head her eyes constantly scan her surrounding, her head tilting in the most minuscule amount to catch snippets of conversation. Well, well. Tasty AND useful. Too useful to eat? An alluring Toreader introduces herself as Lucita and offers a consolation gift for a missed something or other. I accept the gift with glee and the slightest sense of suspicion. I spend good hunk of the night tracking young Rose when Mongrel isn't keeping an eye on me and entertain myself by snatching Serendipity's hat. Alas, the inside of his hat doesn't divulge any of his secrets so I give it back, disappointed.

The night takes a different turn as Mongrel entices me to join in a hunt for a group of independents. I'm tentative but my interest is piqued so I agree to go. The two of us join up with a trio of suited types and the Gangrel primogen, Ylva an adorable and violent ten year old. We follow the trail to a properly ominous looking cave. Someone inquires as to what to do with whomever or whatever we find in the cave. "We fucking kill them." says the bite size Gangrel. Oh, I like her! We enter the cave single file, I bring up the rear, just behind Mongrel. As much as I love some carnage and bloodshed I'm a big fan of my own hide, so having a hasty exit route is my priority right now. I smell the immortals before I set eyes on them. Dirty looking creatures, with bone spurs jutting from their extremities. In a second, both groups converge on each other. Ylva guts and beheads one. Mongrel's tearing into another. The stuffed suits are dealing with the other two. I tense to join in when the smell assaults my senses. Somethings...wrong. Before I can put any coherent thought together, Mongrel decapitates the beast he's sparring with...receiving a face full of a black, tarry substance. On the other side of the cave one of the suits gets a ebony shot of goo in the eye. The smell is awful. The beasts are dead but it seems the trouble isn't over. The suit is frantically wiping at his eye with a handkerchief. I glance at Mongrel, who's looking a little green around the gills. I open my mouth to crack a clever remark and receive a shower of vitae and ichor. Theres a body fluid I have yet to be soaked in. I knuckle Mongrel's vomit out of my eyes in time to see the suit blowing a similar load. This can't be good. We attempt to vacate the cave. Ylva stops two of the suits, Mongrel and I at the mouth. We're told to stick around here until further instruction. My stomach churns. "That's great. But y'know I'm just a tad claustrophobic and..." I let loose a spew of vomit onto the leather suit coat of the guy in front of me. I snort laughter and immediately regret it as the bile assaults my taste buds. Christ on a cracker. The look on Ylva's face lets us know ain't one of us getting past her. So, we wait. I pace the rocky floor until the walls start to spin a bit. After a significant amount of time the vomit soaked group of us are corralled into a van. The drive is long and quiet, save for the sounds of retching and Old Blue Eyes crooning through the speakers.

When we finally reach our destination, the van pulls in front of the most ridiculously regal house I've ever set my mad eyes on. The van door slides open and we're greeting by half a dozen faceless folk in full biohazard suits. This is promising. "Oh hey! It's a welcoming committee!" I jump out of the van, surprising the closest bio-man with a refuse coated embrace. His pure shock is probably the only thing that keeps him from lopping my head off. We're hustled through the mansion and I try to sneak glances at the splendor as we head into the lower levels of what I'm made aware is the Sheriff's house. We stop at a what looks like a bank vault.

One of the bio-men heft open the door and direct us in. Everyone hesitates. "Is this going to be a problem? Or are you all going to go in calmly and quietly?" The van driver goes in first, followed by the suits, leather coat being supported by the other two. I cast a glance at Mongrel, but he seems too ill to put up a fight.

All eyes are on me as I huff and head into the subbasement. "I'll be damned if I'm gonna be quiet about this! Ahh! AHH!" My yelling turns to a coughing fit and I cut myself off to prevent another puke explosion. The room is elegant but sparse. Couches, chairs, a TV and a small fridge. Leather coat collapses on the nearest couch and one of the taller suits checks the mini fridge. A quantifiable amount of bagged blood is in there. No fucking way. I don't do fast food. We're informed that we are under quarantine for the next three weeks until the Tremere figure out what it is we're infected with and how to get us...uninfected. Outside communication is cut off. The last of the bio-suits leave the room and the vault door slams. The click of an industrial strength lock echoes around the room. "This is going to be fucking fantastic for my business." one of the suits gripe. Leather guy scratches at his skin were several angry looking boils are raising. I'm afraid to look at my own skin so I glance at Mongrel, whose taken a spot on the floor. Sure enough, he's prodding similar boils with his claws. We share a wordless look of distress. I shrink into a crouch, balancing on my heels as I strenuously ponder my situation. Locked in the Sheriff's basement for three weeks with three strangers all of whom are sharing some unknown, infectious, festering disease. Nothing but bagged blood. I am not going to do well at all. I already feel the first tugs of hysteria and hunger for a fresh, tenderized kill. How will I control the madness if I have no playthings to dissect? Mongrel can only help so much once the voices start. How long before reality cracks and I start tearing apart everything in my reach? And how long after that before one of the suited strangers puts my rampaging to an end with True Death? I'm so fucked. Ass fucked, even. Sans lubrication. I bounce up and grab one of the chairs. Situating it facing the wall, I sit, head down and fingers interlacing across my scalp. I close my eyes and imagine nice things, like limbless strippers and small children with flayed skin, as I count the seconds.


	5. Chapter 5

Four days. It's only been four days. I shield my face in my hands. Who would think that someone who's already "lost it" would have anything else to lose? I can feel my willpower coming unraveled like the well worn threads of an old blanket. The physical pain from whatever malady that's eating away at me, at all of us here, doesn't compare to the slow debilitation of my brain.

As I struggle to hold it together, Mongrel tries to persuade me to drink some of the repugnant bagged blood that has been provided for us. Like a child forced to take down a shot of bitter cough syrup, I swig down a few mouthfuls. I read blatant concern in Mongrel's face as I thrust the unsatisfying fluid back in his hand. I'm genuinely befuddled as to why he takes on the burden of caring for me. I'm the antithesis of any morals he holds standard to. Perhaps he sees that tiny shred of humanity that hasn't been destroyed through my own actions, or the actions of my maker. Could any amount of repentance truly hold a candle to the atrocities I've committed?

But what I do. I do it because I need it. The gnawing, gouging compulsion to turn mortals into pulp. The voices and shadows that dance in the corners of my vision never go away, but when I'm cutting into warm flesh and drinking the hot life fluid from within my victims...they seem farther away. Quieter, and easier to ignore. A psychiatrist could connect my thirst for children as a loss of innocence in myself. Not like any head shrinker ever had a chance to make those assumptions before their throats were ripped out. Oh, no. Now I'm thinking of succulent gullets and...breathe. Hold it together.

I spare a glance through my interlaced fingers into the room. The similarities between this basement storeroom and the bomb shelter I was embraced in are few. But, I still un-fondly reminisce. I remember the moment I realized my captor wasn't just inhuman, but actually NOT a human. He had cut too deep when carving up a section of my arm. His surprising control waned as he sunk his fangs into the broad furrow in my flesh. I thrashed and shrieked like a banshee. Up until that point I thought he was just a madman. Some lunatic who chose me as his prey. When I saw the gluttonous hunger of the monster in his eyes I screamed and begged for reprieve. Instead of my father's strong hands gently shaking me from a nightmare there was only the vast chasm of pain and terror. Why was this suffering befallen on me? I was chaste, incorruptible. A borderline virtuous young woman with the proverbial "whole life" ahead of me. Caught in the clutches of an immortal beast. On the night I was turned he drank from me deeper than any previous feedings. I half heartedly thought maybe he finally decided to kill me. When his own cursing vitae was forced into my dying mouth I necessitated a fruitless struggle. My body died along with any innocence I could hold onto. My senses were anew and my mind was a whirling kaleidoscope of mirthless dissolution from my former self. No longer seeking escape or a savior, I wanted nothing more than to bathe in the entrails of the creature who had given me this new life...and anyone else that crossed my path. After the obliteration of my maker and my prison I had little control or knowledge of this new life and the endless nights that followed. I executed a mini massacre in the first town I came through. Stopping only when the sun's rays started touching the blood soaked land and threatened to conflagrate me. I took refuge in the choking dark under a sewer grate. I felt nothing for the lives I had just extinguished. No martyred need to expose myself to the murderous sunlight and expiate my sins. It was only time and the whispered legends and truths of the Camarilla policy that halted my deadly free for all. I learned to be cautious and to clean up after myself so unnecessary questions wouldn't be asked. Other than the old faithful question: "Why are you doing this to me?!" I became the beastly mock up of a human that I am today. Capable of keeping the roaring of inner demons sated with intricate dissections of living flesh.

I even tried the virtuous vampire route. Only killing and feeding from criminals and the like. It was dissatisfying. I never caught the questioning fear that comes from the innocent. The "why me?" These human monsters, they knew why. Knew they deserved what was coming to them. The blood never tasted as sweet. Always muddy. Scummy. The drug addicts tasting of the filth they smoked, snorted and pumped into their veins. The aftermath always made my already jumbled head feel fuzzy.

Coming back into the now, my eyes focus on my forced companions. The two larger ones are delving into a chess match. One of the few methods of entertainment in the room. The one who earlier introduced himself as Cecilius is perusing the singular piece of literature. His eyes occasionally peer over the book to scrutinize my conduct. I know if it comes to my having a hysterical episode, that one would gladly turn me into a pile of ash. Mongrel, sensing the impending crisis has been halted, places a reassuring hand on my shoulder. I reach up and give his hand a brief clasp, sighing internally, knowing I have only temporarily kept the madness at bay.


	6. Chapter 6

It's coming. Always does. I was watching a particularly intriguing fissure in the plaster of the ceiling when everything starting to haze around the edges. Then. CRACK. I'm outside. The sun is glaringly bright against the snow. I look down and my pale legs are calf deep in the slush. I glance at my hands quizzically and feel the sharp points of my fangs. How am I not like...on fire? Someone is approaching. I swing around, teeth bared against the oncoming threat? She's no threat. Tall, and athletically built. Her non-descript brown hair frames a pleasantly round face. Green eyes peer from under a fringe of bangs. It's...me. Alive. I straighten from my predatory crouch. She smiles at me. I. I smile at me. The smile turns sardonic. "No matter who you kill. What you do. You can't let go of me. I still manage to dodge around the monster that has a hold over you." The tone of her voice is taunting. Almost mocking.

"Let go of YOU?! You won't let go of ME! You're nothing but a little splinter of oak in a big wood chipper. You don't have control. The MONSTER doesn't have control. It's me. ALL ME." I lose my temper and try to pounce on this taunting specter. Shut her up. Someone is holding me back. I twist around in the strong grip and pause. Dad?

"Maddie. You can't. She's keeps you tethered."

And I feel her in me. She wants...I want...nothing more than to turn myself over to my father's comforting embrace. The thought that he can still look at me, put his hands on me, and not cringe away from what I've become. Not wrinkle his nose at the blood on my breath. No! This is all a trick! A distraction from the enemy. Blood lust returns and I pull away, cracking my elbow back into the face of this false begetter. I launch at the living, breathing effigy of myself. Instead of hitting flesh I stumble, face first into the snow. I sputter out the mouthful of melting water. Now she's in front of me, smirking. I leap up and sink my fingers into her...my...HER flesh. Trying to rip and tear. It's like trying to fight smoke. No matter where I attack, she's one step ahead of me. Of course she is. She's me. "There's no point. You can't destroy something that's so deeply a part of your being." I don't know which one of us is talking, now. I plop down and sink into the snow. Maybe if I sit here long enough I'll freeze. Freeze everything inside me. My dad's voice echoing, far away. Or is it? Is it shouting? Is it dad? No.

"Madelyn! Snap out of it! For the love of...no! Back off!"

Growling? A scuffle? Someones shaking me hard enough to make my brain rattle. Reality is stirring.

Waking up. Not from sleep, but from...what? Gah. My head feels fuzzy. Christ, I can only guess what that means. Looking around the room I notice some telltale signs. Couple of holes in the wall, one of the fancy tables reduced to some splinters. The three Ventrue are at the farthest end of the room watching me warily. I finally turn my eyes to Mongrel. He looks visibly stressed, and there's a hell of a shiner marring his right eye. Fuck. Before I can even look properly ashamed he waves a dismissing hand. "S'fine, it'll heal. Are you...ok?"

I shake my head and shrug, reflexively nibbling the skin around my nails. Tastes like blood. Fuck fuck fuck! I can't remember the last time I had an episode like this in front of anyone. I usually have enough warning to make myself sparse. For Mongrel's sake and for the sake of not exposing my blatant insanity to everyone in the vicinity. "I'm as ok as I can be right now." That seems good enough for the guys. They relax as much as an uppity Ventrue can relax. Occasionally shooting Mongrel and I wary looks. I wonder if our companionship sets them on edge more than anything. I can't put enough effort to suitably give a shit. I still feel shaken up and wrong. It doesn't take a genius to decode what some of these hallucinations, waking dreams-whatever they are, mean. I see the strain I'm putting on my already harrowed Gangrel friend and try to climb out of my own thoughts.

Sitting on the floor I lean back and rest my weary, fucked up cranium against Mongrel's leg. Simply seeking the comfort of someone who doesn't judge the fact that I need to tear people apart to keep my head on straight, or the fact that honestly there is no way for my head to ever be straight. Simultaneously trying to offer whatever deficient assuagement I can. I can only wonder how long before someone other than me cracks under the pressure. We've got to get out of here.


	7. Chapter 7

My range of emotions are limited and possibly as unbalanced as I am. In my capacity to care or love, I guess you could say I share those feelings towards Mongrel. That is, I would gleefully destroy any being that would have the intent to harm him. I'm all too aware of the weakness that befalls those with fondness towards people other than themselves. It's something that can be held over your head in a threatening situation. But, as I'm usually the threat rather than the threatened, I don't hold to that too much. I suppose it's a rare thing for something like me to find another being who isn't disgusted nor fearful of me. Mongrel understands why I do what I do and although he may not agree, he doesn't judge. At times he's the life preserver that keeps me afloat in the treacherous ocean of my own insanity. I'm capable...well, fairly capable of taking care of myself. My youth only goes skin deep, after all. I've spent a lot of time on my own. Usually leaving a trail of corpses in my wake. The only connection I felt would be the strictly visceral one with my victims. Then an undead angel of sorts stepped into the minefield that is my life.

Spending a night in one of my favorite manners, I had tracked a family to a cozy little campsite in the woods. I already had my main target hand picked. The troubled teenage son, Bradley. His discontented murmuring about this excursion traveled clearly to my perch on a precipice nearby. Just wait, kid. I'll give you something to bitch about. That is if I leave the boy with any parts capable of speech. He was joined by his parents and younger sister. After the inevitable roasted marshmallows and Kumbayas, Bradley retreats to his room in the camper with his Ipod and comic books. I make quick work of the family, silencing the woman and child with my Bowie knife and depleting dear Daddy's arteries. I enter the camper. Young Brad's look of shock is quickly replaced with fear as he takes in my bloodstained form and the murderous intent on my face. I'm blocking the only escape but the boisterous boy still attempts to dart past me. I deliver a blow to the base of his neck. Sending him to the brief bliss of unconsciousness.

When Brad awakes, hanging upside down from a tree, his attempts to speak, scream...possibly even compose a sonnet...are halted by my swift removal of his flapping tongue. I squeeze the small organ out over my open mouth, relishing the taste of his blood. The growing stain of urine creeping up his jeans make me wrinkle my nose. "A little old to not be potty trained, aren't ya boy?" I wave my Bowie knife in front of him, still sticky with his family's blood, before opening up an artery in his leg. The crimson fluid sheets down his body in a beautiful waterfall. I'm lapping up the blood when I feel an all too familiar evocation in my head. I drop my knife and clutch at the sides of my head, whimpering almost inaudibly. "Nooo. I'm giving you what you want! Leave me alone..." Like the fate of my prey, my own pleading is for naught. I find an ax near the camper and attempt to hack away at the shadows that are threatening to eradicate my being. The kid is laughing at me from his suspension in the tree and I take his mocking head off. I'm in the process of beating his body like a macabre pinata with the blunt side of the ax when what I perceive as a menacing figure steps into my decimated playground.

The tentatively approaching figure is male, that's all I take in before I leap at him with a lunatic battle cry. I register the slightest surprise in my addled mindset that my attacks are being thwarted with the same inhuman strength as I administer. My assailant sets eyes on my kill and with a roar, delivers a herculean blow that sends me flying clear across the campsite. I manage to gather my wits enough to land on my feet, panting, as I glare through the veil of my blood soaked hair at the threat before me. I launch into another attack and he returns in kind. He's quick, managing to dodge the barrage of car parts I fling at him and my gnashing teeth as I strike like a rabid dog. I feel the hot tug of his claws catching my skin several times but the sight of my own blood just incites me more. His feral fighting a set match to my twisted aggression. The wrecked campsite becomes utterly obliterated by our savage combat. I howl in frustration, baring my teeth as he manages to subdue me, pinning me to the ground despite my struggles. I see a change in his face as he glimpses the blood pouring from one of the wounds he inflicted on me. The battle lust is replaced by an bestial look of hunger as he bites into my torn flesh with a growl. Recognition breaks into my already crippled psyche as I feel myself freeze with fear. I'm seeing him, that beast I've killed a thousand times but can never evade. Nononononono LET ME OUT! I let loose with a harrowing wail, feeling the fight run out of me like snow melting on warm pavement. The beast releases me. What? What's going on? I backpedal out from under him, dragging myself through the dirt. Pulling my knees to my chest and holding my hands protectively over my head I whimper "Why are you doing this to me!?" At his silence, I risk a glance upwards into his eyes. Who is this? The rage and hunger is gone from his blood splattered face. Replaced with a look of...concern? And guilt? No. No. It's just a trick! I sob aloud and rake my hands over my face, desperately trying to put my thoughts in a cognitive order. Why can't the pieces just go back where they should be?! I feel a cautious hand on my shoulder and pull away in distress. "I'm not going to hurt you." His voice is soft, despite the situation.

"Please...please don't touch me! I...I..can't..." I trail off pitifully, unable to force the necessary words out of my jumbled brain. I can only imagine what my expression shows as I fight this inner battle.

Shutting my eyes tightly I grit my teeth and try to fight my way out of the torrential storm brewing in my head. I'm afraid to look in this stranger's face again. Afraid the compassion I saw really was a trick. I feel a warning tickle at the nape of my neck. His muttered curse concurs what I'm sensing. The sun is coming up. Let it. I'm too tired to fight my way out this time. I'm sure I've been given up as a lost cause. Not even worth fighting with anymore. I'm roused out of my bitter reverie by strong hands lifting me to my feet. Eye to eye, he gives me a simple command. "Dig." Casting me towards the hole under one of the trees. I start digging frantically, keeping my thoughts on the simple task with every ounce of my floundering sanity. He drops gracefully into the hole next to me, pulling one of the cars doors I previously heaved at him over our makeshift sanctuary. I cringe into myself, still fighting for control. Sneaking glances at my unexpected savior, I try to interpret his scheme. Why did he save me? DID he save me? Is this all one big trick?! Is this really happening?! I've got to get out of my head. I'VE GOT TO GET OUT OF HERE. The feeling of inescapable peril is bubbling up inside of me. I tense with anxiety, ready to ambush him and run when he speaks to me again

"What's your name?" His calming voice feels like a rescue rope, emancipating me from this quicksand-like pull of delirium inside my head.

My answering mutter is steadier than I could hope for. "...Madelyn."

His relief displays as a ghost of a smile. "Good. Good. I'm Mongrel. Keep talking to me, Madelyn."

Talking? Oh..oh. I shake my head slowly, trying to keep grasp on that rescue rope. Looking into Mongrel's eyes once more I open my mouth, not knowing what will come out until I hear my own voice. "My parents raised dogs. All different types. The mongrels were my favorite. They were always the most loyal.." I chatter on and on, the amusement on Mongrel's face helping to clear the murkiness in my mind. What is this feeling? Safe. I feel...safe.

After our shared ordeal, I ended up following Mongrel to Baltimore. It wasn't even a conscious decision. I began seeking out his company for the brief alleviation of insanity. His presence soothed me like a balm. Eventually my tailing around led to something mutual. Something I wasn't even aware I could feel anymore. Friendship. I found myself...caring. Being grateful for the quelling of my haunts while subsequently attempting to aid him in the conflict against his own demons. It's a camaraderie that seems to be for the sheer amusement of the gods themselves. Or maybe it's just two fucked up pieces of fate's ultimate puzzle.


	8. Chapter 8

They say hell hath no fury like a Malkavian scorned. Well, I don't actually know who "they" are and if they said that or not. But that's beyond the point. As much as I appreciate some quality suffering, I do not appreciate when I'm the one receiving it.

Quarantine has been lifted. After several days of vomiting, boils, boredom and psychotic episodes it seemed as if whatever illness that was ailing our little undead five-some had cleared up. Minus my inescapable psychosis. Release was sought, and still denied. We were all "examined" by some Tremere lackey. By examined I mean peeked in on, given the thumbs up and then left to fester for another THREE DAYS. I somehow managed to keep my cool. Mostly. I may or may not have left a few obscene blood inscribed doodles on the wall. Try explaining those to the maid. Then emancipation began with the loud clanging of the vault door opening. In a flash, the Ventrue were up and voicing bawdry complaints.

Mongrel held back, assessing the situation. The situation being my paper thin self control and the few human servants between us and liberation. "Do NOT attempt to dine on the Sheriff's help."

I try to appear as appeasing as possible. "I'll behave." He retains a firm grip on my arm as we hightail it out of this damnable prison. I can't help but leave on my own terms so I chant my own jaunty little tune. "Free at last, free at last. Now Madelyn's gonna rip up some ass!" Mongrel snorts laughter next to me and we make our getaway.

We're halfway home when I start to get twitchy. The compulsion is practically burning a hole through my being. My eyes skitter back and forth, probing the area for a victim. Mongrel senses my voracity and stops walking. "Do you need to go? Now?" I nod distractingly, still surveying with the eyes of a hunter. He grabs my chin, forcing me eye to eye. "Be smart about it, clean up after yourself and most importantly try to keep your head on straight." I give him my assurance and he releases me. "Call if you need me." he says over his shoulder while retreating. I note his haste. I know there's apprehension. It's a lot like letting a rabid dog off his leash to massacre the neighborhood. A tiny, almost non-existent part of me wants to follow after him. Call off the hunt and behave myself. Spare Mongrel's indirect guilt and an innocent life or two. The smell of fresh blood stops that train of thought in it's tracks.

There's a small gathering of teenagers in a backyard a few house down. Creeping closer, I get a count. There's four of them. Two females, two males. All fairly inebriated. More than enough to sate my need. Catching a lucky break when one of the males stumbles around to the side of the house to relieve himself. I wait until he's finished, the last thing I want right now is a golden shower. I hear him zip his pants up and I pounce. Far too famished to make this first one last, I rip into his throat in a frenzy, my hunger crazed grip crushing his skull in the process. The top half of his body quickly becomes a slightly mushy mess. I drop it and run my bloodstained hands through my hair. Licking my lips I let out a quiet sigh of contentment. A bray of drunken laughter brings me to the task at hand. Where's my bag of toys when I need it. I spy a tire iron laying in the bed of one of the teens trucks. Hmm. Ok, I can work with this. I smile at the bludgeoning weapons heft in my hand as I slink into the shadows of the backyard. The remaining male and one of the females are canoodling in a hot tub next to the shed. The other female is on the screened in porch. This is splendid. Smiling and silently climb onto the porch, I approach her from behind, using the tire iron to throttle her into silence. Pulling her into the house so any unpleasant noises won't be heard, I throw her onto the kitchen floor. The tire iron smashes into her chest, sending shattered ribs into her lungs before she can draw breath to scream. Her blood pools onto the tile in a delicious way. Kneeling into the puddle, I feed from her dying body until the lacerated heart stops beating. I dispose of the tire iron for a freshly sharpened knife from the butchers block. Controlling my excitement I creep stealthily to the couple, who are in the throes of a passionate kiss in the frothing water. I ruin their beautiful moment when I thrust the knife into the back of the neck of the female. It slides through to jab the male with its dripping tip. I push her convulsing body to the side, leaping into the water with a splash. The male lets out a humorously feminine shriek and I'm forced to hold his head under the bubbling water until his struggling ceases. I pull him up, checking for the faint pulse before sinking my fangs into him. His blood jets out and I swallow as much as I can before releasing him into the reddening water. The hot tub gurgles away making hypnotic swirls of crimson. I'm captivated for an indiscernible amount of time before shaking myself alert. Time to clean up.

Dragging the bodies into the kitchen, I rig up a contraption with the gas range. I hurry out of the house, already a safe distance away when I hear the small blast of the stove as it obliterates the bodies I left in its vicinity. There. T's crossed and I's dotted. When I finally reach home, I come upon my only hang up of the night. My clothes are soaking wet with blood and water and I smell faintly of propane. I grin when the solution comes to mind. Stripping down to my bra and Cookie Monster adorned underwear, I shove my stained clothing into a trash bag and enter the house. The look on Mongrel's face is worth a thousand words as I flounce past him. As I prepare to use up all the hot water I hear his laughter echoing down the hallway. I grin and step under the spray, knowing I've avoided any possible hard feelings from my little spree.


	9. Chapter 9

People seem to be surprised at my respect and possibly even borderline fear for authority. Like most of my quirks, there's a valid reason for this. A year or so after my Embrace, unsurprisingly, I came across a spot of trouble.

I uprooted from my hometown, avoiding recognition and the triggering memories. Not like those memories ever had the decency to avoid me. I had a haven and ample hunting grounds just across the state line. Until I hunted the wrong prey. I had no idea there was a organized Camarilla grouping in the city. At that point, I barely knew who the Camarilla was. Apparently the family I had just...ravaged, was a protected family. I was still taking care of some leftovers when I was interrupted by a half dozen irate Kindred armed to the teeth. I took a predatory stance. Pushing my spattered brown hair out of my face I growled. "Sorry to disappoint fellas...I'm not too good at sharing."

The largest of the undead SWAT team approached me fearlessly. "What the hell do you think you're doing, little girl?!"

I smirk and lick the residue of blood from my lips. "Enjoying my dinner. Clearly. At least I was, before you all interrupted me."

My smart remark gains me a forceful backhand that almost cracks my jaw. Before I can strike back, two of the men twist me around and clamp my arms behind me with heavy duty manacles. The unyielding restraints ignite a flicker of panic in me. I start thrashing and snarling, until the leader jabs me with some sort of immobilizing steel rod. I drop, face first into the carpet while the men speak amongst themselves. "We've got to clean up here. Larson isn't going to be happy about this. The Anderson family were under his personal protection."

"What do we do with this?" The questioner gives me a sharp jab with his boot.

My thoughts are an incoherent snarl in my head as I try to keep my sanity above the bubbling hysteria. "She'll be taken to Larson. For judgement." Judgement? Shit.

I'm thrown into some sort of reinforced paddy wagon. The six guards clamoring in and each looking at me like they just bagged a convicted puppy killer. I feel the effects of the paralyzing weapon wearing off in conjunction to the mindless frenzy taking over. Big mistake on their part for not securing a maniac better. I heave myself out of the seat into the lap of the closest guard. Biting at him like a Rottweiler on a fresh bone, the poor bastard loses a few crucial facial features before one of his buddies clocks me with what feels like a two by four and I'm out...

My arrival, awakening and the preceding few hours are a blur of delirium. I'm restrained and placed in a cell. Such conditions turn my paper thin lucidity into a full on conniption fit. Eventually a group of impeccably dressed Kindred come in. I'm beyond rational conversation at this point, making the leaders decision all the more easy. From what I manage to hear over my own pathetic keening, snippets of judgements.

"...a monster. Unable to keep the masquerade."

"what she did to that family..."

"..unstable..."

"Too much of a liability to live. She is to be kept in this cell until dawn." This last sentence spoken by the leader, Larson. As the vampires file out of the cell, each gives me deep looks of loathing and disgust. All but one. An austere looking younger male. Through the panic induced haze I see something almost like pity. My mind displaces the moment as an illusion as the slamming door foreshadows my fate.

Eventually I sense the building getting quieter. I know it's late. Taking advantage of some short lived clarity, I glance around the cell. Looking at the ceiling, I see a stunning view of the night sky. Stunning indeed, yet I feel creeping dread instead of awe. Oh. No. No no no. This isn't good. Realizing what they meant when they said "...until dawn." Until dawn, when I will cease to exist. Whimpering to myself, I pull at the chains, trying to curl into a protective ball. This is it. All the suffering...this is how it ends? I struggle to slip my hands out of the manacles, succeeding only in losing a few layers of skin. I'm half heartily licking my wounds when I hear unhesitating footsteps approaching the door. My growls are cut off when the door swings open to reveal the austere male. His severe expression betrays his actions as he fearlessly steps forward and unlocks the manacles. I'm too astonished to fall into my usual attack mode. I tilt my head to the side questioningly as he places a finger on his lips and gestures for me to follow him. We silently move through the building and out into the dark parking lot. He hands me keys, a wad of cash and a few folded papers. "There's no time for questions, now. Take my car and take refuge at my home until tomorrow. When night falls, go to the closest store and get whatever you need for travel and something to alter your appearance. I will take care of things here, and meet you tomorrow by midnight." Before I can open my mouth he pushes me towards his car and briskly re enters the building. Still feeling more than a little shell shocked I glance at one of the papers with directions as I start up the car. I toss the rest of the paper and cash into the passenger seat without a glance and drive off.

A steady rain starts to fall as I pull into the driveway. I roll the windows up, muting the delicious scent of neighbors settling into bed. I attempt to shake off the hunger and grab at the small pile of papers I tossed aside. A newspaper article? Expression falls from my face as I take in the article.

 **Police Still Searching For Missing Teen.** **Madelyn Alexis DeWittier, age 17.**

The article describes the grisly circumstances surrounding my murdered family and the futile city wide hunt being held in hopes of finding myself or the monster responsible for this heinous act. Attached is a photo. My photo. Dressed in my junior prom dress, my innocent face smiles up at me from the now quivering paper. Another photo depicts the almost ridiculously cheerful, living DeWittier family. I'm staring for an indiscernible amount of time before folding the paper and stepping out of the car to enter the house. The rain on my face feels like tears.

I sleep through the rest of the night and preceding day. When I wake, I follow through with the unknown saviors directions. I have some skill in being unnoticeable, which helps as I pick and choose useful items from shelves. Passing a hair care section I pick up an eye catching box and smirk to myself as some true Malkavian logic passes through my head. I return back to the house and make use of my purchases. When my savior comes home, whatever explanation he has prepared is cut short as he regards my bright fuchsia hair and the lace and studded "goth kid" garb I've donned. "What...you? How is this? Why..." He mumbles something about failing at witness protection.

"No one stands out more than someone trying desperately to fit in. So..." I shrug and gesture to myself.

"That's so insane that it actually makes sense." I nod, and then look at him expectantly, holding up the article he gave me. Pointedly averting my eyes from the paper. In the next hour or so, he explains that he is on an overnight task force with the police department. It's apparently fairly common for the PD to have a Kindred or two on the force. He worked the crime scene at my former residence and recognized the attack for what it was. Recognizing it because it has happened before. Apparently my lunatic sire had put several young women through the same thing for years and years. I guess I was "lucky" for putting an end to his cycle of monstrosity. He tells me of how he hunted the beast, always too many steps behind to stop him. After finding my family, he sniffed out a trail that led him to the burned husk of my mortal prison and deduced the possibility of what happened. When the Camarilla guards dragged me in the other night it all came together. Somewhat rashly, he knew he had to set me free. I ask him why he didn't just let judgement fall upon me. After all, he must know from my actions that I truly never did escape my maker. He's almost as puzzled as I am. "What you've become, it's not your fault. Of all the women he did this to, you survived. However...damaged. There's something in you..." he trails off, looking flummoxed.

I shrug. "Well. Thanks. Maybe? Um...now what?"

"You have to leave. Get as far away as possible. Larsen and the others will hunt for you, but he loses interest in the pursuit easily in his old age. You can take my car and cash. It would be unwise to collect anything from your haven."

My indifference is clear. "I don't have anything worth taking with me anyway." My actions belie my words as I touch my pocket where the news article is folded. A minuscule part of me wants him to ask for it back. I'm sure it won't be healthy for me to hold onto this keepsake. He either doesn't notice or deliberately ignores it. "I guess I should know your name, now that I'm like, indebted to you." I can't help but scowl. As pleased as I am to not be a pile of ash, I don't like being beholden to anyone.

"Nick Pullman, and you don't owe me anything. If anything, you did everyone a favor by..."

I cut him off. "Don't. I'm not some tormented martyr heroine. All of this came at a...fucking...COST." I clutch at my head, taking a deep breath. Keep it together. After a uninterrupted moment, I rise from my perch on his couch. "Sorry. Nick. If I'm going, I should go. Before I'm...gone." He looks a little concerned by my fragmented speech but nods in agreement. I take the car keys and cash from him and mumble some sort of gratitude. As I'm driving away, I wonder if he realizes what a mistake it was to "save" me. A faint smile crosses my face and I ponder the ease in which I manage to lure people in. Such a perfect little monster. A voice whispers in my head, wiping the smile away and causing my hands to grip the steering wheel too tight. I manage to keep control and shortly before dawn, take refuge in a seedy motel miles away from my little incident. I even catch some late dinner from a young woman in the parking lot at the wrong time. I close the room curtains, pull the blankets off the bed and drag them into the bathroom, turning the tub into my own porcelain refuge. When the sun rises, I'm dead to the world, my hand clutching the article with the DeWittier family's smiling faces.

Many years later. I'm impassively checking my email when I come across a subject less message from a familiar address. Nick_PullmanPD. Inside, I find a death certificate for Madelyn A. DeWittier and a brief article on the end of a fruitless search for the long missing teen of a slain family. The article is adorned with a picture of my family's tombstones, now complete with my own hunk of granite sitting over an empty grave. At the bottom of the email is a brief note from Nick, concluded with a phone number...If you need anything. I scoff as I program the number into my phone. Ring ring. Yes, Officer Pullman? I just killed a family of five. Could you help me dispose of the bodies? My laughter is disrupted by a faint groan. Oops. Must of left one of the hearts still beating. I spin out of the computer chair and walk back to the pile of bodies to finish my work, dried blood flaking off my skin as my lips span into a terrifying smile.


	10. Chapter 10

In my coffin for the day. A restless, pink haired figure in the dark bedroom. A face that should be a composed death mask contorts in reaction to the reveries flowing through an inanimate brain. Small whimpers escape from the cold lips.

Dreams.

Walking home from school. Nose in a book, my feet know the way. I hear the sounds of a scuffle around the corner of a long abandoned restaurant. The shouts are familiar to me. Jason and his bad news crew. I sigh and stuff my book into my bag. Setting eyes on the scene, it's Jason and three of his greaser buddies roughing up nerdy little Davie Alcott. By all means, I should just keep walking, but something lights a fire in me. I drop my bag on the ground and approach the boys. "Hey! Why don't you leave him alone you bunch of jerks!"

Jason stops and turns to me, his fist in mid air, grimed with dirt and Davie's blood. "Mind your business, you dumb skirt. Unless you want a piece of this knuckle sandwich." The other boy's laughter trails off when I square my shoulders and step forward in front of Jason.

One of the taller boys, Steve, grabs me around the forearm. "You're cruisin' for a bruisin' there, doll. Why don't you buzz off?"

I shake his hand off and something in my face makes him back off. Before I can turn my attention back to Jason, his fist flies at me, landing a stinging blow against the side of my mouth. I feel the blood dripping from my split lip. Davie's in the gravel, eyes darting in his bruised face like a snared rabbit. Someones gotta put this punk in his place. Without a sound I rush forward and tackle Jason into a row of trashcans. I hear his head bounce against the pavement as I pummel him in a fury. Another of his crew tries to pull me off and I hit him with one of the steel trash can lids, the metal bong-ing loudly and vibrating up my shoulder. The other boys back off. Jason struggles to get up and I plant my foot in his stomach knocking the wind and the fight out of him. Holding a bloody knuckled hand out to Davie, I help him to his feet. "Listen up you cheap, dime store hoods. You're going to leave Dave alone from now on, or else everyones going to hear about how you all got creamed by a girl. Dig it?" The boys murmur their assent. Hearing Jason mumble some smart remark from the ground, I spit a mouthful of blood near his feet. "By the way, Jase...you hit like a girl."

Picking my bag up, I lead Davie back to the main street. "You OK, kid?" looking over his torn clothes and beaten face.

"It was almost worth it to see you whip their tails, Madelyn!" he says with a grin.

I laugh a little. "Don't blow a gasket, Davie. I only did what any decent person would do. Those guys had it coming."

"Well, thanks a bunch! I owe ya big time! I better get home now. See ya later, alligator!" He beams at me.

OK. So he is a big geek. Either way, no one deserves to be treated that way. I smile back at him and wave. "After awhile, crocodile."

Back at home. I wander into my dad's work room and plop down next to Tommy, one of our mutts. I rest my chin on one hand and idly pet Tommy with the other. After a few moments dad puts the manual he was perusing down and looks at me expectantly. "What's on your mind, Maddie? My sixth sense is telling me you have a tale for your old dad." I unconsciously chew on my lip, wincing when I graze the swollen bruise. Dad sits cross legged in front of me, his words accentuated by the thumping of Tommy's wagging tail. "What happened, sweetie?" I lower my head until my brown hair forms a protective curtain around my face and recite the events from earlier. When I've told my story I peek up at him from underneath my bangs. To my surprise, he doesn't look disappointed or mad at me at all. He tucks my hair back behind my ears and lifts my chin. "Well, Maddie. It sounds like you did a pretty decent thing for Davie Alcott. It seems like those boys meant to do him serious harm. I'm not saying it's a good idea to solve problems with violence but you helped put an end to a bad situation."

I open my mouth and close it again. Taking a deep breath, I pick my words carefully. "I just couldn't stand by and watch them bully him, dad. It just seemed like...pointless cruelty. They prey on the weak. Like monsters."

He nods in agreement. "You're right. Some people have so much malice in them that they let it spill out and infect others with their tormenting. Sometimes you can just avoid those people, but sometimes..." he gestures to my busted lip and bloody knuckles. We sit in silence for a few moments, petting Tommy. "You know," he says, smiling. "You get that protective streak from me. I was always getting in trouble with my folks for fighting in the play yard. It was always a situation where I was trying to protect the prey from the predator. Too bad Gramma and Grampa didn't see it that way." I laugh with him. "You want to head over to the kennels with me and feed the mutts?"

I nod enthusiastically. Both of us get up, and I reach up and wrap my arms around my dad in a hug. "I love you, dad."

He kisses the top of my head. "I love you too, my Maddie."

Nightmares.

Waking up. Why is it so freaking cold? Is Mongrel jacking up the air conditioner? Something feels wrong. I try to get up. The clinking sound of chains echoes ominously in my head. My body tautens like a live wire. If this is his idea of some sort of kinky fun I'm about to use the safe word. Why can't I see? With that unspoken question, florescent overhead lights flicker on with a buzz. With my eyes squinted against the sudden glare I see...I see...I...see.

"No!"

How? HOW!? How am I back here?! I ESCAPED. NO. NO! NO! My thoughts reach a fever pitch as I take in what should be a burned out shell, but instead is the filthy bomb shelter that is my prison. Was! WAS my prison! The floor is still stained with my blood. I yank at the chains, flinching as the metal bites into my wrists. I'm crazed as I pull and twist my hands in the cuffs. My teeth grind against the steel and I try in vain to bite my way out of the restraints. I freeze, wide eyed and panting as I hear the door swing open to slam against the wall. I won't look. I won't look. "I won't look!"

That laugh. "You don't have to look, monster. You know."

I let out a terror-stricken wail when I set eyes on my maker. "YOU'RE DEAD." I shriek. "I killed you myself! You can't hurt me anymore!" Laugh. The laugh as he approaches me. Like a trapped animal, I try to shrink back against the wall. My wailing is cut off as he lifts me by the throat, dirty nails digging into my flesh.

"Mmm...still as fresh and sweet as the day I found you." I cringe and gag as he licks the droplets of blood from my neck. Holding me aloft with one hand, he reaches around to his belt, pulling the familiar blade from it's sheath. "Remember this?" He waves the blade under my nose. "You can still smell your family's blood on it? Can't you?" Running the blade from my knee up my inner thigh..."What else did you smell on my blade?" His hot breath in my ear. The blade moving further up...

I scream and thrash hard enough to break his grip. Falling back to the floor, weeping, I feel his hand in the tangles of my hair and then gone. "I have a present for you, monster..."

Dread fills me. Nonononononono. Whipping my head back and forth with each thought. A recognizable smell fills my nostrils and I freeze. Terror taking a whole new level. Clove and cinnamon and...NO. I'm loath to set my eyes on this new torture. Thick chains in my makers hands. Chains attached to a steel collar. A steel collar attached to...my Mongrel. His face reflecting confusion, fear, worry, anger..."NOOO! LET HIM GO! YOU DEVIL! YOU'RE DEAD! I'LL KILL YOU! LET US GO!" I don't even notice the wrenching pain as my panic fueled thrashing causes my shoulder to dislocate. If I could just break free. I'll tear him apart! kill him shred him destroy help help. I hear Mongrel's voice over the din.

"Maddie? What the fuck's going on? Who is this..." I yell a warning as my maker, quick as a snake, thrusts his hand into Mongrel's mouth, clutching his tongue and extracting it in a gout of blood. Just like I've done to so many victims.

"PLEASE NO!" I scream as Mongrel chokes and coughs out his own blood. My face is streaked with tears and blood as I continue my futile struggling. My voice and thoughts shriek in unison as my maker forces Mongrel to his knees in front of me.

"You have nothing, Madelyn. I will take everything from you until there's nothing left but me inside you." With those words, he slashes his blade into Mongrel's neck and I see his last look of horror and blame before his blood soaks me and I scream and scream and scream until my throat bleeds and my jaw cracks and...

"AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRHHHHHH!" Flinging myself out of my coffin as it topples over. I hear a faint "...what the christ..." and rapidly approaching footsteps. My screams taper off into whimpers as Mongrel staggers into the room, still languid from his day sleep. I look up at him desperately with tear filled eyes and without a word he sinks down next to me, pulling my trembling figure into his arms. "Shh. Shh. It's alright, Maddie. Just another nightmare. You're ok." He repeats this mantra until my sobbing and quivering ceases and my subconscious slowly returns to it's normal, albeit perpetually damaged existence.


	11. Chapter 11

Moments of clarity. They are few and far between. Those moments though...they're enough to make me realize why my mind is in such irreparable shambles. A window that looks into a horrid scene of lunacy and massacre. Why would anyone want to look through that window? I don't.

I don't want to be this way. I love it. I need it. I crave the tug of my blade parting flesh. Feeling my fingers squeeze a throat until I feel the windpipe shatter. Bathing myself in the blood...the blood. All that blood. I need it. But, I don't want it. That's what he wanted. I hate it. Why, even though I eradicated the monster, my maker. He still lives. Exists. Festers. I am what I destroyed. The scars he inflicted, the scars I bear, the scars I deliver. He made me into the perfect beast. A beast that could surpass him. While my maker could scarcely pass for anything but a killer, I have all the necessary attributes to slither into humanity in a way he never could. A candy haired, baby faced monster. Kindred and Kine alike don't perceive me as a threat. Until I want them to. Until I am.

I smile and charm. Keep the storm of insanity to a quiet roar. Try to take cover when the storm breaks. Hide it. Is that humane of me? When I feel the warning signs of hysteria creeping in like a fog, I run. Why do I run? What's stops me from exploding like a bomb and leveling those near me like so many fragile buildings? Who. Who stops me?

Little Maddie is still in there. Oh, she's buried deep. So deep. Sometimes I can't tell if she's buried in the madness...or if I'm holding her under, waiting for her to die. She's so weak. She wants to be in charge. Stop hurting them, she says. Care, she says. Open up and let someone in, she says. No. It's what I am now. Theres enough fissures in me without all that. Fissures that could be cleaved open. Exposing me, red and raw, to things I can't tolerate. No, Maddie's plans for me are just as destructive as my maker's. He wants a monster, she wants a human. What do I want? Human or monster?


	12. Chapter 12

What's worse than a unstable, bloodthirsty lunatic? An unstable, bloodthirsty lunatic who's crazed from sleep deprivation. Scarcely a day has passed that hasn't seen me ripped from slumber, soaked in blood sweat and choking back a shriek. Worse than the usual plague of terrors, now my dreams are invaded by haunting images that seem to be sent from my wayward Primogen. Are these dreams some sort of a message? A memory? A threat? Last time I set eyes on Serendipity he was beaten, bloodied and being dragged away by Sheriff Pyotr. The details surrounding the ordeal are still hazy. My decision to keep my mouth shut, possibly to my Primogen's detriment, is still not regrettable. I'd rather walk with the devil, than be in his path. My choices and actions are to protect who's important. That would be myself, and Mongrel. Not necessarily in that order.

The phone call I received earlier in the night was an obvious predecessor to the events. It was 'Dipity, sounding more manic than usual. He was avoiding Elysium, and in his place, naming me temporary Primogen. Is he out of his mind? Oh, wait...dumb question. That puts a whole new spin on the blind leading the blind. Turns out leading a clan is easy as pie. That may have something to do with the fact that by the end of the gathering, I was the lone Malkavian. Serendipity had been carted off, Camden dead, again. I don't even...anyway. The biggest shock came when Trevor was swiftly executed for Sabbatt involvement. A pity. I liked him. Or, at least I didn't fantasize about setting him on fire. But, I digress. As newly named Primogen and currently the only one standing from my clan, the target I feel centered on my back surely can't be ALL paranoia.

All of this, plus the quotidian burdens I already face has been taking it's toll on my consciousness. My restful days abolished, now I'm periodically losing track of my nighttime waking hours.

The other night.

It really was a quaint little cottage. Glancing at the shining wood floors, the worn yet methodically cared for doilies that the elderly always seem to gather in their homes. Like the wrinkly magpies that they are. I pick up a framed photo with bloodstained hands. How cute. Granny and all the heathen grand kids. With a smirk, I set the picture back face down. As I lick the excess blood from my fingers, my attention diverts to what's left of Kathy Hamlin: widow of Neil, mother of Lucy, Andrea and Jack, grandmother to a mouthwatering amount of grandchildren. How I'd love to see the faces of those children when they take in what's become of their beloved Granny. How I'd love to consume said faces one by one. Most of Gran's body slumps in her favorite rocking chair, the tattered pieces of skin and intestines dangling like the ropes that bind her. Gran's head rests in the entertainment console, devoid of all but the most recognizable features. Her mouth still in a rictus of fear, dead eyes seeming to be studying the decapitated figure in front of her. Pleased with my little display, I give the misplaced old skull a pat and make my way out the back door. I'm out of the yard and into the deserted street that connects the few houses in this neighborhood. I'm quietly humming to myself when a jolt of pain in my side pulls me out of my reverie. I'm reaching around to feel the shaft of the arrow lodged in my flesh when another jolt in my calf knocks me to the pavement. I spit out a few curses from between my gritted teeth as I turn to identify my assaulter. Assaulter..s. Fuck. At least a dozen Kindred stare me down. All familiar faces, led by Pyotr and Tybalt. Tybalt's crossbow leveled at my chest, no less threatening with the missing two bolts currently spearing me. "Your time has come, little one." Pyotr thick Russian accent, normally warm and friendly towards me, is cold enough to make even a monster like me harpy Lucita turns her nose up, "Your time has passed. We've bestowed too much mercy on you."

I hear Franco Salvatore's cruel laughter, anticipating my slaughter. Despite the crippling odds, I muster up my courage and rise to my feet. I refuse to die groveling. Aware of the arrows point following my movements, I match eyes with the formidable Brujah. "Certainly, Sheriff...you must know I won't go down without a fight. However futile." I bray laughter, catching the mob of Kindred off guard. Perfect. Attention diverted for the merest of seconds, I spin on my heel and take off, sprinting full force in the opposite direction. My frenetic footfalls drowned out by the angered cry and consecutive sounds of pursuit. I don't even feel fear when I see my retreat is thwarted by a dead end. The only end this could come to is a dead one. I whip around, facing the oncoming attackers and garner all my rage and frenzy in a bone chilling shriek. A murder of crows takes off at the sound, their dry feathers falling like rain around me. The thunder of their wings...thunder...

Thunder.

A deafening crash of thunder drags me back to reality. My eyes wide, I survey my surroundings. A local park? The rain comes down in sheets. My clothes are sopping, hair plastered to my face. How long have I been out here? The scent of blood and gore soaking into the ground to my left. On top of one of the picnic tables is the collective parts of a small child and a young woman with strawberry blond hair. No, just blond. A gaping head wound draws rivulets of blood into the blond tresses. The child is little more than decimated flesh in OshKosh B'Gosh overalls. I take slight refuge from the downpour under a tree, staring at the bodies. The faint smell of washed away blood on my clothes matches the scent of the corpses. Ok. I did this. But...when? A brief mewl of concern escapes my lips. Reflexively, I pull my cell phone out, thumb hovering over Mongrel's speed dial. I pause, chewing the inside of my cheek as I think. If I call him, I'll have to explain the fugue...blackout...whatever that was. He doesn't need to worry about me any more than he already does. He's subsequently being driving insane by association..."No." I say aloud, stowing my phone back in my pocket. I step out of the trees protection, gathering up the pieces of my kill. Cleaning up my own mess, I try to ignore the sense of foreboding gnawing in the back of my consciousness.


	13. Chapter 13

Winter of 1954. Addled and struggling to adapt to this new...life. Life. It's that's what it really can be called. Not dwelling in the same place for long. Never long enough for anyone to find me sleeping the daylight away amongst the corpses of the homes previous inhabitants. I flitted from town to town, knowing what I wanted to do. What I didn't want to do. Orbiting in slowly decreasing circles around a place even through my lunacy, I knew I shouldn't go. Home.

Just in time for Christmas. I stood in the street facing the house. Outwardly, it hadn't changed. The lights were festive and simplistic, a pine wreath hung on the door. I rocked back and forth on my heels, eyes squeezed shut. I shouldn't. I shouldn't. I can't. When I opened my eyes, I was on the porch. What am I doing? I could smell the people inside. Not my family. Not my home. I rub my cold hands over my face vigorously. Fighting the first of many internal battles. Go in. Come home Maddie. Comehomecomehomehomehome. My hand touches the door. Grazes the wood. I hear a faint laugh from inside. The hand curls into a claw. I inhale deeply. I'm so...hungry. The hand, my hand, knocks on the door. I drop down to my knees at the sound. STOP THIS MADELYN. It'll stop when you do what you came here to do. Laughter. Laughter. Who's laughing? Footsteps approaching the door. Heheheeheehee. There's something growling. The faint squeak of the doorknob turning. The hinges creaking as the door opens.

"Yes? Oh..oh my dear. Are you alright, miss?" I smell the man's hot blood pulsing so close, so close. And something else. Long dead, decayed, familiar. Loss. The growling turns to a pained moan, deep from my throat. I feel the hesitant touch of the home owner's hand on my shoulder. I reach over and place my hand on his. "Do you need help? Please, what can I help you with dear?"

"Help..." I snicker, and grip his hand tighter, before digging my nails into the soft flesh of his wrist. With a jerk, I rend the extremity from the arm it's connected to. His blood pours down my side. I look up just in time to see his look of concern abating to a look of fear and shock. I spring up with a snarl as he backs up, tripping on his own feet and falling backwards into the house. The other voice is gone. All I feel is anger and hunger and the roar of the beast. I step into the house, still holding the amputated hand, and slam the door behind me. "Ben? Who was at the door, honey?" When the woman walks into the room, I toss the hand at her. She catches it with surprisingly good reflexes and then screams when she sees what it is, and what threw it at her. The man seems to have gone into shock. I step over his bloody, slightly twitching figure. The woman's shrill screams are hurting my ears, so I grab her by the arms and throw her into their Christmas tree. She falls with the tree, ornaments and tinsel scattering around her. I see tiny rivulets of blood where some of the glass balls have cut her. I gather a few of the ornaments as I crouch over her. Shattering them between my fingers, I rake the shards of glass over her face, her throat...everywhere. Licking at the gashes. Feeding. She won't stop screaming so I grab a strand of the lights and wrap them around her neck. Her eyes bulge in her shredded, bloody face as I tighten. Tighten. Even after her heart stops it's frantic beating. It's only when I hear the groan of the man behind me that I let the strand, slick with blood, slip out of my hands. I pause, blinking a few times in confusion.

I'm home? Where's dad? Mommy? What am I...I shake my head in frustration. Focusing my eyes on the body at my feet. This woman is dead. Why is she in my house? I turn my attention to the man who's currently attempting to crawl to the table, leaving a red trail behind him. "Why are you in my house?" That smell again. Dad's aftershave. Mom's perfume. Baby powder. Faint smells. Stronger is the smell of death. My family's dead. Killed. And me...and me. I shriek. I lift a heavy end table over my head and heave it at the man, hindering his pathetic attempts at evasion. It lands on his legs and I hear bones snap over his screaming. Grabbing a poker from the fireplace I pummel his body with the iron rod over and over again. Blood and gore flinging everywhere, within minutes the man is barely recognizable as what was once a living being. Panting, my mouth tasting of blood, I give one last jab, impaling the fire poker into his skull. I step backwards until I hit a wall, sliding down it and landing with a thump. All I smell is blood. The fresh blood. The other smells are gone. The voices and laughter are quieted. I wipe my bloodstained hands on my bloodstained shirt. There's nothing here for me. No family. No memories. I hear barking in the backyard. My countenance turns to pleasure as I leap up and dart off the terrace towards the kennels that still line the far edge of the lawn. My mutts! My dogs! The smile on my face is genuine and innocent despite the blood caked around my mouth. I'm brought to a rude awakening when I draw towards the runs. The dogs, snarling, barking at me. My dogs. My Tommy. Autumn's puppies, now grown, showing their teeth and growling. I place my bloody hands flat against the chain link, the smile melting off my face. "Please..." At the sound of my voice, the dogs shrink back whimpering and whining. Tails tucked in between their legs in fear. I stare at the shivering mutts until I hear a faint voice. Monster. My monster...haa haa haa. The dogs start howling. I'm howling with them. And running. Running away. Running from the voices and the memories and the place I can't call home. Running, but not escaping.


	14. Chapter 14

I'm following an ambrosial scent through the trees. The questions I should be asking myself barely cross my mind. Where am I? How did I get here? All I can focus on is the smell. I track it to a scant opening in what looks like a bare brick wall. I pause at the entrance. The smell assaults me as if embodied with life itself. It whispers. Come. Come in. Find me. I'm pulled forward, into a maze of sorts. A game? Is this a game for me? I giggle, ignoring the brief tickle of foreboding. It's only when I notice the gap in the wall I came through is no longer there, that sound judgement finally rears it's head. Just as swiftly, the mouth watering scent I followed into this trap is replaced with the recognizable smell of mildew and rot. Things long since decayed. Only the barest hint of light is reaching my still form. In the corners. The shadows breathe. Take form. They want me. I bare my teeth, but there's no denying the fear that's taking over my mind. The unknown figures start to converge on me and I run. Blindly run, taking turns at random. I know my fleeing is hopeless before I even feel the hands of my assailants grabbing me. Pulling me down. The faces of Kindred leering at me. Those whom I thought were allies. I try to appease to the mass of my kin. "Please, what have I done? Spare me! I don't know what I did." They fall on me. Claws tearing my skin. Blades cutting...cutting parts of me away. Laughter as they bite and drink from me. So much pain. I haven't felt this much pain since I was a mortal. My ravaged body is lifted up, passed through, hand to hand. The last face I see before being tossed into a lake of dark fluid..No...no..please not him. Not him. The clawed hand mockingly waving to me as I'm pulled deep into the lake of blood. Grasping, yanking hands. Dead hands pulling me under...under. Blood filling my mouth so I can't scream...

My own gasping bring me out of the nightmarish fog . Or does it? I'm in the dark, but it's...familiar. I feel the brush of fabric on my cheek. The closet. Great. I'm in my closet. I reach up, hand pausing on the doorknob. Taking a hearty sniff, my face contorts in reaction the overwhelming scent of blood. It's coming from the other side of the door. Incomprehensible sounds slip from my lips. Am I awake this time? Damn it. I don't want to open the door. Against my better judgement I turn the knob and step out of the closet. The smell makes my mouth water even through the dread. Oh...god. What did I...fuck. Oh fuck. I rub my face with shaking hands as I take in the the bodies strewn around my bedroom. All the pieces, the blood...I can't even count how many there are. What did I do? What do I do?! It's almost dusk and Mongrel will...fuck fuck. Mongrel! I broke one of the few rules he actually enforces on me. He'll kill me! I crouch down in my guarded position, trying to finagle a plan when I hear the whisper. He will kill you, Maddie. He'll have to. My eyes snap open. Am I still dreaming? Mongrel would never hurt me? I crawl over to one of the bodies and press my hand against the cooling flesh. Feels real. I lick the blood off my palm and moan. I AM awake. I think. Oh. Please please. What the hell is going on?! He's coming. He's going to kill you. The smell of cloves sends me scampering to the other side of the room. I cower against the wall, blood pooling from the soaked carpet around my bare feet.

Mongrel steps into my bedroom, eyes wide, too many different emotions running across his face to discern. "Madelyn. What...the...fuck?" His eyes fall on me.

"I don't...I didn't..." My words drift off as I bury my head in my hands. Then, I hear Mongrel's voice. You're dead, Maddie. It's time. I wail through my clenched fists. Threats and laughter echo in my ears. This has got to be a fucking nightmare! IT'S GOT TO BE. I hear a warning growl. Sense Mongrel tensing to attack. I can't. I won't fight Mongrel! Fear and delirium come off me in an almost tangible wave. Tangible. I feel something fly from my mind like a cloud. A sound reaches me through the voices. A sound of fear, not my own. I force my hands away from my face. Mongrel's yellow eyes meeting my green ones. Like my own, his are filled with fear. Terror, even. I feel it, so akin to my own. But why? What now? What did I do? Realization creeps over me. My mind defended itself even though my body was unwilling. That power that flows through my cursed blood. I've infected Mongrel. Oh FUCK.

Mongrel falls backward onto the floor with an anguished scream. The sound of it sending a shock through my still heart. He argues with an unseen presence. "N-No..you're dead. YOU'RE DEAD. I killed you with my own hands. I KILLED YOU. No. No. No. You're not real. Not real. Not.." I grit my teeth afraid to act as he emits a pained cry. Then, his voice changes"… Evaly, love, what are you doing here?" Oh, no. Mongrel.."No, I killed him. He's dead, babe. I killed him...for you."

I'm filled with horror when I realize what he must be seeing. Tentatively, I speak. "Mongrel?"

At the sound of my voice, he staggers to his feet briefly, before falling to his knees with a yell. "Babe?... Babe, is that you? Oh god..so sorry... so sorry. Babe... where are you?" His words turn into panting sobs. Such pain.

Self preservation tossed aside, my thoughts turn solely to my friend as I crawl across the blood soaked carpet to him. I grasp his head between my shaking hands, forcing him to meet my eyes. "Mongrel! It's not...it's not real. What you're seeing. I..it's a...please Mongrel!" My voice, wavering with distress. "I don't know what to do..."

He reaches up, clasping my hand in his own. His eyes looking at me, but seeing someone else. "You're so beautiful..." He smiles sadly and kisses my palm, "I think I had one of those dreams again..it was so real. You were burning." I open my mouth to speak...and close it again. Swallowing around the lump in my throat. He's seeing her. His Evaly. I'm stricken with sorrow. How am I supposed to tell him this isn't real? He leans forward, lips brushing my ear, my neck, as he whispers "...kiss me.." I pull back an infinitesimal amount, trying to collect my wayward thoughts. Mongrel's familiar and comforting scent filling my nostrils. He's always been whatever I've needed him to be. How else can I do this without harming some part of him? And doesn't...doesn't some part of me...want. Want to feel...something..more than nothing? I'm pulled out of my thoughts at the soft touch of his hand, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "My love, Evaly..." I press my fingers to his mouth, cutting him off. I'm silently thankful for the false face he sees as I trace my thumb along his lips, before replacing it with my own lips. Hesitatingly. Gently. Then, as something ignites. My hand sliding across his throat to grasp the hair at the back of his neck. His hands caressing. And I feel...I feel. Oh. My dear Mongrel. I break off the kiss with a inward sigh of regret. His eyes on me as I bite my lip, trying to keep my face from betraying any emotion that might be amiss. "What's the matter, babe?"

I force myself to smile. "Shh. Nothing, Jack. Just...rest darling." It's relief I feel when he settles against my chest. I kiss the top of his head, the pleased whimper he emits enough to make me thank whatever god that's out there that he can't hear the sound of my heart breaking for him. I hold him for indistinct amount of time, and in that time, I almost feel human.

The realization that neither of us can be lost in this illusion forever comes all too soon as Mongrel starts to stir. A brief glance into his aura tells me the effects of my inadvertent attack on his mind has finally dissipated. The feeling of trepidation once again creeping in. He lifts his head and looks at me with total awareness, for the first time in hours. I dubiously unwrap my arms from him. I want nothing more than to skitter back into the closet, or worse...just crawl back into his embrace and pretend everything's alright. If his face showed even the barest hint of anger, I probably would of ran. But the worry is just as bad. At least...harder for someone like me to deal with. "So.." he looks around the room incredulously. "...I guess you have something you need to tell me?" I attempt to smile and shake my head no. He pulls himself into an upright position and gives me the look. Sigh. I idly poke my finger into the blood-squishy carpet as I inform him of the recent discrepancies in my head. Including everything from the nightmares, the black outs and the new voices. My stomach clenches as I see the concern on his face. The burden I put on him. I rise to my feet, wiping my fingers on my shirt. "Maddie, why didn't you say something sooner?"

I shrug, half heartily. "You have enough on your plate without my crap. MORE of my crap."

He takes his glasses off and rubs at his eyes, perturbed. "If you don't tell me these things, how can I protect you?"

I turn my back to him, senselessly speaking under my breath, knowing he can still hear me. "...maybe you shouldn't." "

Shouldn't what?" He interjects abruptly.

Continuing my gaze at the wall, I reply "Maybe you shouldn't bother protecting me anymore. Maybe you should just let the dam break. Or even...stop it yourself." The last three words spoke quieter than a whisper.

Crossing the room before I can blink, he turns me to face him. "What are you trying to say, Madelyn?" His hands are gentle on my shoulders, but still prevent me from dropping into the protected squat I favor in times like this.

Refusing to meet his eyes, I stare at a spot on his collar. "This was just a taste...just a...bare snippet of what I can do. I can't control it...I...can't control myself. You know this. I can't. I WON'T...hurt you." I can't even have a proper fucking conversation without wanting to lose control! Taking a moment to grasp my wits, I continue. "Hurting you. That's worse to me than any nightmare. Any...memory. You caring about me, that alone puts you in danger!" I struggle around the words, trying to take them from my brain to my mouth in a comprehensible order. "You're all I have, Mongrel. My scant grip on sanity depends on you. To destroy that through my own actions.." I shudder. "That. Can't. Happen. You can't let that happen."

"So you're suggesting, what...I just up and kill you?!" I finally meet his eyes, letting him see my pain. His voice like a growl, "No. Just..no. That's not even a fucking option." "

Why not? You know. You know I'm nothing but a monster! I don't even deserve..." I cover my face with a sob. I feel his hands move from my shoulders, taking mine off my face and holding them in his own. "Please...stop. I need you just as much as you need me, Madelyn. YOU know this. Taking you from this world would be just as impossible as you doing the same to me." We stare at each other for a few moments.

"Mongrel...you're a damn fool." I say, not without affection.

"Name calling isn't going to goad me into doing it either." he replies, a ghost of a smile on his face.

I bring our clasped hands to my chest, giving his a squeeze. "I'm sorry." That word doesn't even cover it.

He kisses my forehead. "I know." In another barely noticeable burst of movement, he picks up an errant limb from the floor and tosses it at me. "Now, clean your room." I make a face as he walks out of the room. My scowl turning to a smile when I hear him dragging the steam cleaner back up the hallway. My last thought before setting my mind to eradicating any traces of human effluence from the confines of my bedroom. I don't deserve him.


	15. Chapter 15

I need some fresh air. Stepping out of the now antiseptic smelling house, I take a seat on the porch steps. Plugging my ear plugs in, I flip to a random song. Leslie Caron and Mel Ferrer serenade me with a tune from Lili. My favorite movie when I was...well...I sigh. One of the neighbors walk their dog down the sidewalk. Approaching the house, the dog starts barking like mad. His owner gives me a wary look, crossing the street to the adjacent walkway with haste. Despite what had to of been a blood buffet earlier I still get that twinge. I will my inner beast aside. I've already caused enough trouble tonight. Let's not cross any more boundaries. Thou shalt not consume they neighbor, and what not. I hang my head down between my knees, linking my hands behind my neck. I can't even fool myself with my own thoughts. It's not fresh air I need, it's a fucking lobotomy. I'm still hearing whispers. Trying to distract myself with cleaning, music...anything. I still hear the murmuring. I'm weary to my bones, but still not weary enough to calm and reassure myself that these quiet threats are a figment of my imagination. Yes. Yes, I know. Pyotr wants me dead. Franco is going to fillet me and serve me on toast. Everyone and their mother wants me dead. I'm a monster. I'm a beast. I know. I know. SHUT UP. Unconsciously, I emphasize the shout in my head by punching my fist through the step. I quickly pull my bleeding hand out of the hole, scooting over to cover it as I feel Mongrel's eyes on my back from inside the house. I hide my hand in my lap, keeping my gaze ahead. I'm about to start whistling innocently when his cell phone rings from inside, creating a distraction. I pull one of my ear buds out, turning my head to the door as I habitually lick the blood from my injured hand. Listening to Mongrel's irked tone, I pause the music to discern who's on the other line. Hmm. Ronin. Filling Mongrel in on that whole house of horrors deal. I make a face. Shady ass Gangrel. I unpause my tunes. Glad that, for once, I made a wise decision to not join the handful of Kindred on that little trek. I've got my own house of horrors right here. I think, attempting to rub the wrinkles of stress from my forehead. The cacophony of sound coming from the headphones is just accumulating more voices to the din. Pulling both plugs out of my ears, I toss the ipod to the side.

I stare off into the shroud of night. I feel like my thoughts are getting blacker by the moment. Simultaneously wanting to shriek, cry, throw myself on the ground and tear something to pieces...I try to settle myself. Does anyone really have even an inkling of how toilsome it is being stuck in here? Fucking...madness. That word. It's too fucking GENTLE for this. I clench my fists, blood oozing from the one. Is it even the madness I despise? Or is it the sanity? After all, without the sanity I wouldn't even be BOTHERED by any of this. Argh! THIS IS NO WAY TO EXIST. My visage switches from fury to despondency in an instant. It really is a shame Mongrel has that asinine devotion towards me. He'd probably be given a medal of honor for doing me in. My expression softens. My Mongrel. I sigh. Maybe I'll start a feud with E. Driscole. Ha! That one would JUMP at the chance to obliterate me. Briefly laughing to myself, I climb to my feet. A glance towards the horizon gives me barest predecessor to sunrise. I cross my arms, dropping my eyes once again to the ground. I could just stay out here. No. That wouldn't work. Of course Mongrel would pull me in before I'm incinerated. Once again, I'd just be putting him in peril. I could take off...just keep running until the sun comes up. Then...poof. No more voices. No more haunts. No more insanity. No more..Maddie. I bet it would hurt. Yeah. It would hurt. Not just me. I shake my head, attempting to clear it. Ugh. Stop. Quit this self pitying, gloomy shit. I turn on my heel, striding back into the house. Mongrel glances at me, still on the phone, then back to the map on the computer screen. I plop down cross legged next to his chair, smiling as I feel his hand nonchalantly smoothing the hair back from my forehead. Leaning against his leg, I close my eyes and savor the brief lull in my delirium.


	16. Chapter 16

May 5, 1954

The florescent light on the ceiling buzzed in a bothersome way. In reality, that place I didn't want to be, it was the least of my problems. Strung up against the cold brick wall, I was savoring the time alone. Despite the numbness in my hands, the ache from hanging in a prone position for hours, the blood that still dripped from between thighs that were already tacky with the fluid...the sharp paroxysms of pain coming from my...oh god. Oh god please. I clench my eyes shut, trying to stay in the better place. My body tenses, wanting so badly to curl into a ball. The movement sends stabbing agony deep inside me. How do tears still manage to creep from closed eyes?

A few hours later. He's coming. I don't even bother trying to fight the tremors that course through me. Like Pavlov's dogs. Instead of a bell it's that oncoming feeling of terror when the beast approaches. Instead of a treat I get more pain that I thought imaginable. When the door opens, the first thing I see is that smile. Always a smile. Sometimes with dark bloodstains in between each tooth. Sometimes that's not until later. The grin widens at the sound of the whimpers issuing uncontrollably from my throat. "Sleep well, monster?" Laughter piercing the quiet room. My back flush against the wall, it's impossible to pull away when he approaches me. Close enough to smell decay on his breath. "I wasn't too rough with you last night, was I?" His hand slips down my body, stopping to caress the torn flesh between my legs. I retch from the pain. The disgust. He brings his mouth up to my ear. "You know, I could make you enjoy this..." He takes the lobe in his teeth, biting down hard enough to draw blood. I scream, trying to pull from his grasp. "Oh, but it's so much more fun when the enjoyment is ALL mine." He laughs again. "Let's see my little piece of art." He pulls the knife from his belt and starts to saw the fabric of the old dress he costumed me in last night.

Ludicrously, through everything I'm still ashamed of my nudity. "P-p-please...don't..."

He snarls and my head whips to the side from his backhand. I keep silent as he exposes me. The only sound I can't control being the sickened whining escaping my lips. He backs up to lean against the table, taking in my naked, desecrated figure. I don't need a mirror to know what he sees. Bruises in a wide array of colors, the largest stretching from the bottom of my ribs to mid thigh. Cuts, scratches and gouges of various sizes. Some well on the way to healing. Many still oozing blood. A cluster of bite marks on my left breast and ravaged neck. I've never seen a man so pleased at such an abhorrent scene. "Gorgeous...simply breath taking." He steps towards me again. "How about we play around in here for awhile.." Tapping me on my forehead with a filthy nail. I instinctively close my eyes. A bare fight against his mind tricks. "Ah, ah, ah!" He grabs my face, positioning his thumbs at the bottom of my eye sockets. "If you don't open up I'll pop those lovely green eyes like grapes." Emphasising his words with scant pressure. I open my eyes, meeting his and tumbling into a incorporeal nightmare.

The monster's hand is firmly twisted in my hair, forcing me to view the atrocities he's committed. My mother, lying on her side...so much blood. It pours from the gaping wound on her chest. She's choking. Choking on it. "Mom!" My voice cracking with fear. WHY IS THIS HAPPENING!?

Daddy is still trying to reach me. Crawling across the floor, the stump of what used to be his left leg trailing blood on the wood. "Maddie.." he gasps. "Run, Maddie! Save yourself!"

I hear the monster's terrible laugh. The hand not keeping hold on me reaches toward my father. "No! No! Leave him alone! DON'T TOUCH MY DADDY!" The hand seizes father's throat, ripping his jugular open in a spray of blood. I shriek.

"Ha ha ha! Yes! Scream! SCREAM MORE!" The monster whisks his hand over my face, coating me in my father's blood. Laughing. Laughing in unison with my screams.

Thrust back into the present, my screams continue. Stop, STOP! I CAN'T TAKE ANYMORE! "STOP!" I pull my head back briefly, before smashing it into his face with all my futile strength. Black dots swirl in my vision as that monster falls back, clutching his nose. The rage in his face is scorching. Against all my common sense, against my fear...I twist my lips into an awful smile and shout his own laughter back at him. I don't flinch at his anger, not even when he slams his fist into my stomach, forcing the wind from my lungs. The pain settles deep in my gut, but still...I won't relent. I won't I won't I won't.. He pulls a heavy, rubber headed mallet from behind the table. The air wheezes painfully through my lungs as I unwisely continue our stare down. He steps within arms reach, tapping the mallet into the palm of his hand. Chained, unprotected by even the slight protection of clothes I can do nothing but watch as he lowers the hand with the mallet to his side. He swings the arm back, still low. My eyes widen when I realize his course of aim. I relent. I flinch. I beg. "Please! Please no! NO! NO! I'M SORRY! OH GOD NO!" The whistle of the mallet covering the distance to my body. The meaty thump as it connects. As it smashes in between my already abused, torn, cut, raped..."AAAAAAAHHHHHGGG." Agony. Suffering. Unable to handle the pain, my stomach churns as I retch again. The paltry remains of my last meal coming up in a burning gout. Oh dear god mom dad someone please help me I can't I can't too much let me die let me die LET ME DIE LET ME DIE. The last thought a shrill scream in my head until I mercifully black out.


	17. Chapter 17

"This! This is why I don't get involved with Camarilla political...bullshit!" I growl under my breath as I strip off my sooty, reeking clothes. Flopping face down on the bed, I sigh into the comforter and rub my temples with my knuckles. All but the most tedious and well known voices have been silenced. Not like I had much time to bask in the pleasant, if a little disconcerting, silence. While I'm normally chomping at the bit to be in the front lines for some bloodshed, tonight's assault just seemed fruitless.

With flames flickering, and Tybalt's shroud obscuring views for all but the most keen eyed in our cavalry, I couldn't of been the only one with misgivings over this blood hunt. Not even for the obvious reasons, my own and the other's attacks being brushed aside as easily as a friendly pat on the back. Surely, if Tybalt was such a threat...wouldn't we all be dead? At the least, I considered the Prince of Las Vegas an ally-by-association. I didn't even need to look at Mongrel's aura to know how conflicted this situation was making him. My temper flared as my gaze settled on Pyotr through the gloom and flurry of fists. This is his doing. I'd probably die trying but if any of this leads to my Mongrel getting hurt for his loyalty...I cut the seething train of thought off with a quick glance at E. Attention focused on the battle, my wayward reasoning is unnoticed by the Nosferatu. It all ended just as abruptly as it began. Pyotr taking off, recuperating. Tybalt's words echoing in our ears "Hand over the Regent...I don't want to kill any of you." For what it's worth, I believe you. Too bad the word of a permanently addled Malkavian doesn't hold any weight.

Then, to my discontent, there was still the matter of the Elders to appease. With plenty going on in my own head, I figured it would be easy enough to give the truly commendable gift of my silence to these formidable Kindred. A gift wasted as the Elders were reported to have taken off. I'm indifferent until later in the night when the Tremere all scatter like farts are fire and their asses are catching. Then I hear the Tzimisce Elders have abducted Lucy Talbot. "Are you fucking kidding me?! Who's to blame for this shit?" Miss Lucy is one of the few Kindred to show this pink haired lunatic compassion. I am not pleased at all. I hear murmuring from other Kindred. "Crovax..." Why am I NOT surprised this leads back to him? Should'a peeled him like a grapefruit when he first called me Maddie...The urge to eviscerate someone is reaching a fever pitch and it takes every once of self control to remove myself from Elysium. Remembering I promised to behave and remembering I'm...grounded...I grit my teeth at the thought and head back to the haven. My attempts to prematurely use Celerity do nothing but irk me more and remind me of the impending danger my teacher is in.

Now, partially undressed and muttering grimly to myself, I hop off the bed. Grounded or not. I need to take someone apart. Grabbing a lacy sundress off the floor, I head back out, pausing only to grab a butcher knife from my nightstand and slip it into my boot. I take to the streets of Baltimore. When the inevitable foolish mortal invites me back to his place, it's not the young man's terrified visage I see as I cut and fillet essential chunks of flesh, but some familiar faces of Kindred currently occupying my thoughts.


	18. Chapter 18

The ground is littered with corpses. My corpses. I smile. It's a beautiful panoramic view of severed limbs and shattered skulls leaking brain matter and blood into the forest ground. I leisurely stroll through the carnage, glancing at the moon lit faces and breathing in the heady reek of death. The hair on the back of my neck seems to rise as I look up at the lightning forking across the sky. A thick roll of thunder follows. Still scanning the sky, I feel a drop of something hit the underside of my chin. I rub at the spot and look at my hand in curiosity. It's blood. There's another clap of thunder and the flash of lightning illuminates the scene. Small drops of ruby liquid are seeping from the ground into the air. The soil is weeping blood into the heavens. I hold my hands out in front of me, grinning at the tickle of moisture on my palms. Soon I'm spinning and dancing in this reverse rain of blood. My childish giggling competing with the crashes of thunder.

Strong hands grip my waist from behind. I recognize the touch and continue my dance, my body urging Mongrel to join in my cavorting. We move together to the sound of thunder, the pattering of bloody rain drops, the wind through the trees. I feel Mongrel's fingers hook under the bottom of my shirt and obligingly lift my arms as he peels the blood soaked fabric from my torso. His nails lengthen as he runs his hands back down my body. His claws trace circles along my stomach. I ponder how easily those claws can rip and tear, turning innards to outtards in mere seconds. As if reading my thoughts, he increases pressure. Just enough to bring thin lines of blood to the surface, lightly coating his claws. I lean my head back against his chest with a small whimper of pleasure. I watch as he uses my vitae to paint a rough sketch of a crow onto my flesh. I twist around in his grasp to face him. He licks his claws clean tantalizingly as he stares into my eyes. I try to grab at his hand for a taste, but he playfully pulls away, smirking with blood on his lips. I bare my teeth and snag a handful of his shirt, bringing his face to mine. Tasting myself in his kiss, I bite his bottom lip, intermingling our blood. "Quite the animal, aren't you Maddie? I thought I was the Gangrel here." He says with a smile.

"I'll show you an animal..." I pounce on him, knocking him backwards into the dirt. Settling on top of him, I shoot him a wicked smile. "Now you're at Maddie's mercy."

His eyes follow me as I lower my head and slowly bite each button off his shirt, exposing his bare skin underneath. I run my fingers through the soft hair above his waistline. Grinning, I move further down his prone figure, unbuckling his belt and using my teeth to open his pants and slide the zipper down. He moans deep in his throat when I trace my tongue up his chest and gently bite each of his nipples. I resume my straddle, moving my hips against him when I feel his hardness pressing on me through my jeans. His hand darts up to seize my throat in a firm grip, squeezing softly. His voice is a growl. "Take...your fucking...pants off. Now."

I take his hand from my neck, giving it a nibble as I rise to my feet. "Yes sir, Mr Sheriff, sir."

Mongrel sits up, jerking the jeans down before I even undo them. "You're taking too long." He pulls me into his lap, assaulting my mouth with his in another lascivious kiss. I snake my legs around him, embracing him between my thighs and sink my fingertips into the skin of his back. Grabbing a fist full of my hair, he tilts my head back. He plunges his fangs deep into my neck while his other hand slips between us, adjusting himself before...

Tinny music permeates the room.

Henry Mancini's Baby Elephant Walk.

"...the..fuck?"

The sun is down. My cell phone is singing at me. I fully immerse myself in the real world, shaking off the dregs of the strange but pleasant dream. Glancing at the screen, I see: Magnus Calling. Seriously? Cock blocked by a fucking Gangrel?! Are you fucking kidding me!? I open the phone and shriek wordlessly into the speaker before heaving it against the wall. "God damn deputy dip shit! That was actually a GOOD dream!" I lay eyes on my shattered cell phone laying on the carpet. "Fuck! Now I need a new phone!" Pouting in vain, I gather the pieces and dump them in the trash on my way out. Roosting on the porch rail are a handful of crows, watching me with keen awareness. Overprotective...I shake my head. "Don't look at me like that! I'm just going out to get a new phone! And maybe dinner.." The crows continue to stare. Rolling my eyes partly at them, mostly at myself, I pull a pad and pen from my pocket and scribble a note to Mongrel. Your new deputy SUCKS. Your crows are nosy. I broke my phone. Come home soon? I tie the note to the closest crow's leg and shoo it away. The rest of the flock take wing and fly above me as I stride down the street. Thoughts of cell phones and winged busybodies drift off as I mull over my dream. The first non-nightmare in a long time. Mad's trivial little secrets. I think with a smirk. Paging Dr. Freud. Turns out my emotions aren't as depthless as everyone perceives. I shove my hands in my pockets and lower my face. Good thing I lack the ability to blush..


	19. Chapter 19

I'm pacing the living room for the 2,543 time. When I notice how threadbare the carpet is getting I halt, dropping down cross legged with a sigh. Now I can add stir crazy to the already gargantuan list of crazies I'm afflicted with. Biting my nails idly, I rack my brain trying to dig up an idea entertaining enough to keep my mind off of all the bureaucratic crap going on. And hopefully something to distract me from being...lonely. I pull Mongrel's responding note from my pocket, reading it over for the thousandth time. I'm alright. You know where I am. I chose my deputy because he seemed trustworthy even if he is wet behind the ears... I miss you. My face softens into an expression rarely seen by my fellow Kindred. I hop back to my feet. Fuck. I've got to go do something. I ate earlier, so hunting is unnecessary. I walk into my bedroom, rummaging under the bed, through the closet. My hands pause on soft leather and grimy rubber wheels. My eye are alight with enthusiasm as I pull out a pair of well worn quad skates. I didn't even realize I still HAD these! I bought the skates sometime in the early nineties, surprising myself by reawakening a hobby from my mortal years. I laugh aloud. Wouldn't the other Kin be just flabbergasted at the sight of murderous Maddie on wheels?! I sling the skates over my shoulder and grab my Ipod before heading out the door. Waving to the crows, I head towards the nearest park.

"If you say run, I'll run with you...If you say hide, we'll hide." Singing aloud, I skate laps around the empty race track. Reaching speeds that would of made human legs burn like fire. Pink hair whipping behind me in a fan, dopey smile plastered on my face...I look every bit the seventeen year old, despite my sixty plus years. "If you should fall, into my arms. And tremble like a FLOOOOWER!" I belt out a high note, despite the awareness of another being nearby. I slow myself to a less supernaturally strong pace at the sound of a different set of wheels. A mohawked mortal skims up next to me on a skateboard with a grin. I pull the headphones out of my ears, David Bowie gives way to Queen, crooning out uninterrupted into the still night.

"Hey. I didn't know anyone else skated around this place at night." The streetlights glint off the hoop in his bottom lip. The boy is maybe a year or two older than I appear to be.

"Nice board." I say, glancing at his feet.

"Thanks. I'm Josh, by the way." We both halt our momentum to shake hands.

"I'm Madelyn."

I take a peek in his thoughts. Wow...she's hot...and a skater punk...wonder if she's single. I resist rolling my eyes. Boys.

We make small talk, most of which entails him slipping little compliments in and trying to discern things about me. He's not awful, for a breather. Kinda cute. Makes me glad I already ate so I can spare this one. "So, how long have you been skating, Madelyn?"

"Oh, about fifty years off and on." I respond without thinking. His puzzled look alerts me to my slip. Oops. I laugh it off. "Sometimes it feels like it's been that long. Y'know what I mean?"

He chuckles in assent. "If you've been doing it that long, surely you won't turn down a test of speed? You wanna race?"

Jeez. Is this really a part of mortal flirting? Oh well, I have always been competitive. "Sure, Josh. How about five laps around the track? Winner takes all!" We both take to the track.

"On my count.." He rolls his board back and forth in anticipation. I lean into my toe stops, bending low. "Three...two...GO!" I run on the rubber stops for a few paces before putting the wheels to the pavement. Keeping my speed normal, but still ahead of Josh enough to turn my head and smirk back at his playful smile. I keep low, leaning into the turns and crossing over with ease. The wind picks up as I pull a bit further ahead of him. The comforting noise of bearings rolling along starts to fade as I pick up the sound of Josh's juicy heart beating with adrenaline. Him panting with exertion. The clean scent of his skin, dampened just so with sweat. I'm licking my lips as I deeply inhale the smell of his blood rushing so teasingly through those flimsy veins and arteries. Executing a quick 180, I skate backwards for a spell before popping back up on my toes in a stop. Josh fails to slow enough, and collides with me. I'm unmoved as he falls on his ass, his skateboard coming to a stop at my feet.

All signs of the innocent teenager are gone as I stare down at him with hunger. "Heh...ow. Thanks for the wipe out..." He trails off, looking perplexed as I bend down and grab his board, lifting it over my head. "...what...the...OH SHIT!"

I bring the board down on his face, cracking his jaw in two and splattering the concrete with blood. I'm laughing as I smash the skateboard down over and over, and soon it bounces off the ground under what used to be a cute, mohawked little head. I lift his body with one hand, drinking the blood that seeps from the ragged stump above his shoulders before tossing him into the grass. I roll back and forth in a tight circle, the wheels of my skates making red trails around the puddle of blood. ...fuck. I lament my lack of self control. Damn it. I'm so fucking hopeless! I snap Josh's stained skateboard over my knee with a growl and heave the pieces away. My wheels start to stick and I tumble into the boy's body. Taking my skates off, I look at the wheels. They're gummed with blood. "Great. GREAT! NOW I NEED NEW FUCKING BEARINGS!" I slam the skate down on Josh's still form. I make a quick clean up of the scene, muttering angrily to myself the whole time. Once I reach home again, I point an accusatory finger at the black feathered birds on the porch. "DON'T YOU FUCKING JUDGE ME!" I pause in the doorway, turning around with a ashamed look on my face. "Sorry, guys. I didn't mean to yell at you." I pull something out of the hall closet. Sprinkling sunflower seeds on the porch from the bag I bought earlier in the week, I look sadly at Mongrel's birds. "...tell him I miss him, too." I close the front door, dropping my skates and falling onto the couch. Starting up my Ipod again, I lay my arm over my eyes. Humming along with the music while I'll mentally drift away for the rest of the night.


	20. Chapter 20

February of 1954.

I wake up with a gasp. The room I'm in is dimly lit by the muted sunlight through my curtains. I'm home? What was...what was I dreaming about? My pillow is damp with tears, the covers twisted around my body in a constricting way that flickers a memory. Of a dream? No, a nightmare. It comes back to me. Oh, god that was such a nightmare. That monstrous creature that held me captive, the heinous things he did to my family and I. The very thought of it has me wrestling the blankets off before flinging myself out of bed. I adjust my pajamas as I exit my bedroom and head downstairs with the slightest bit of trepidation. I peek around the corner to the kitchen. Dads sitting at the kitchen counter with a glass of orange juice in front of him. Mom is at the stove, fixing breakfast. She glances up at me. "Good morning, sweetheart. Why are you sneaking around? Breakfast'll be ready soon."

The sound of her voice sets a deep reassurance in me. I catch her off guard when I dash across the linoleum and wrap my arms around her in a bear hug. "Oh, mommy. I'm so glad to see you. I had such an awful dream!" She returns the embrace, placing a warm kiss on my cheek.

Dad pats the stool next to him. "Why don't you tell us about it, Maddie? Maybe it will help."

I take the spot next to him, sneaking a gulp from his glass before giving a brief, censored explanation of my nightmare. "It was the most horrible..." I shudder. "I just want to forget about it."

Dad messes up my hair and gives me a concerned look. "Maybe you should nix those horror flicks you always watch."

"Yeah." I reply. "Or, stop eating sugar before bed." My sister walks into the room with Marisa in her arms and husband in tow. I grin at them, relieved to see them, too. I hold my arms out as my sister dutifully deposits Marisa in my lap. My niece starts babbling in a constant stream and I gaze around the room, reveling in the comforting family scene.

Mom deposits plates in front of everyone. I look down at my own. My brow furrows. It's covered in blood. Thick, spongy clots of it. Marisa giggles in my lap, sounding nothing like the sweet laughter of a child. Her hand reaches out and splashes down on the plate. Her hand! Oh, my god! My niece is now a small, animated corpse. I let out a small yelp and she drops off my lap. I leap from the stool and see my other family members have transformed into similar rotting creatures. The room is thick with the smell of decay. Backing up into the corner, I flinch as they all point accusatory fingers at me. "Your fault! This was all your fault, Maddie!"

"We're dead because of you!"

"You deserve everything you get!"

They converge on me. Dead hands tearing at my hair. I'm screaming. Screaming as their teeth gnaw on me. Screaming as the room grows dark..

I'm still screaming as the illusion fades, depositing me back into the living nightmare. The beast that abducted me four months ago is feeding from one of the multiple wounds he inflicted on me. I unsuccessfully try to struggle my way out from under him and off the filthy mattress. He extracts his fangs from my flesh, hissing angrily in my face. Foul saliva mixed with my own blood drips from his mouth. I can't. Can't stop screaming. Can't stop until he clutches my throat with inhuman strength. I gasp in one small puff of air before he tightens his grip, blocking my windpipe completely. I claw at the hand holding my throat, desperate to breathe. With his free hand, the beast catches one of mine, bending the fingers back forcibly until they snap. The pain, combined with the lack of air causes black spots to appear before my eyes. I stop struggling. I can end this. I'll just let go. Yes. I can die. Let me die. Consciousness starts to fade. I surrender.

Then, the hand abruptly releases it's grip. Stale air surges into my lungs as I cough and gasp, senses returning in a painful rush. "Nooo. Why won't you...just...let me die?" I gasp out through my swollen throat.

The hand that previously almost choked the life out of me gently touches my face. I'm too weak to try to pull away. "Madelyn. Dear, little monster of mine. I'll never let you go. Shh...you'll be with me forever.." He pulls me into a rough embrace. Instead of feeling the usual terror and disgust, I'm at ease. Almost...comforted. Despite the blood caked on his mouth, I listen to his voice, enraptured. "Mine, forever. My beautiful, monster. I'll hurt you and hurt you and won't ever let you go." The words arouse no panic in me. I just nod, and rest my forehead against his shoulder. My broken fingers still throb, my throat is on fire. Still, I just listen. Patting my back with one hand, he reaches under the bed for something. I feel no fear as I watch him pull on a crudely fashioned glove. The fingers of the glove are tipped with curved, pointed metal nails. He continues rubbing my back, now with the gloved hand. He pauses at the nape of my neck. In one long, unyielding movement, he digs the nails into my skin. Dragging the small blades down my back, parting the flesh. It's agonizing. The blood pours down my flesh, soaking into the mattress under me. I don't react to the pain, but stare into the pleased madness of my captor's face. He pulls the nails from my skin, grasping the back of my head with the glove. It's sticky with my blood. He presses my face to his own and I comply when he thrusts his tongue past my lips. The inside of his mouth tastes sour but I don't spit in distaste when the rotten kiss is broken. I just lean into him. Dazed and smiling lucidly as he whispers sordid threats in my ear. Blood continues to flow from the wounds on my back, my neck...so many other places. Pain courses throughout. No matter. I'm his docile kitten. I'm his, forever. He'll take care of me. Ravage me. Love me. Cut me. Keep me alive. Always. Always.


	21. Chapter 21

October of 1954

"I have a special gift for my monster." The mad vampire looks over at me with a generous smile.

He gestures me forward and I obey, kneeling by his feet. I glance up at him, meeting his gaze unwaveringly, even through the uneasiness. "A...gift?" I repress a shudder, remembering some of his "gifts" from the past year. The wounds from his last gift still itch with healing.

"Yes. A gift for my monster. You've behaved so well, lately..." It's true. It took months upon months but I've been conditioned to accept this madman's torturous ways. It's easier this way, isn't it? He hardly ever needs his mind tricks to keep me placid. Although, it's still necessary to anesthetize my mind for some of his more...carnal needs. Briefly overwhelmed with revulsion, I lower my face and try to unclench my hands as the knuckles turn white. Calm, Madelyn. Keep yourself calm. It's safer..I feel his hand on my shoulder, squeezing just enough to regain my attention. "Now, now dearest. Is that anyway to think of your master?" Grabbing me by the scruff of the neck, he lifts me to my feet. His hand combs through the tangles of my hair. My face is resigned, waiting for the moment the gentle hand turns painful and cruel. Instead, he presses my head into his chest. "Why don't you put something nice on? I want you to look impeccable for when I give my gift to you." I nod in assent. Walking towards the rack that holds the few garments he allows me to wear, I pause with my hand on one of the frilly dresses. Gift. He's giving me a gift. A wayward thought comes to me. Maybe...maybe he's finally setting me free. I'm too wise to think he'd actually let me go, but maybe he's grown bored and decided to end this pitiable excuse for a life he's made for me. Do I really want to die? I think of his inhuman strength, the variety of mental and physical weapons he has. Do I really have a choice. Suddenly he's in front of me, my arm twisted in his hand painfully. "Patience grows thin, monster!" He growls at me.

I whimper quietly. "Sorry! I'm sorry...sir. I'll get dressed right now." His face softens slightly at my respectful tone. He releases my arm, taking a seat on the mattress. I don't hesitate when removing my worn clothing. Knowing I've already tempted his anger, and that he would see my hesitation and punish me. I catch a glance of lust on the deviants face before I slip on a white, lacy dress. My stomach turns. Please, not that again. If he's going to kill me, just let him kill me. I stand before him, eyes cast down demurely.

He holds his hand out for mine and I oblige, managing to not grimace at the feel of his dry, cold lips on my palm. He pulls me down next to him. "My lovely monster. My Madelyn. You've given me so much since I've taken you. So much..." His hand idly caresses my exposed thigh. "I want to give you something. Something I'm not sure if you'll want, but you WILL like it. I'll make sure of that." He smiles and brushes my hair over my shoulder, exposing my neck. I think of being free, and manage a wan smile of my own. Leaning forward, he grips my chin, turning my head to the side. "Such a dear girl. Always willing to please." I feel his mouth on my throat and I know. If this is how it must be done. I smile even as a tear or two fall from the corners of my eyes. I remove my hands from my lap and tentatively wrap them around this beast who has tortured and tormented me for upwards of a year. At my assenting touch, he bites down with a hungry snarl. His fangs sink into my flesh for what I can only hope is the last time.

Several moments pass. I can almost hear my heart slowing over the guttural sounds of the beast drinking away my life. My eyes open to take a last glance at my prison. My father stands a few feet away, a distressed look on his face. He places a finger over his lips before I open my mouth to greet him. "Maddie. You can't give in like this. It's not you. You're stronger than that." I look at the image of my father in helplessness. What else can I do, daddy? I can't do this. It's too much. I'm not strong enough to deal with anything else. My head starts to feel woozy. "Are you foolish enough to believe he's letting you go? This is only the beginning of the torture."

My mind is assaulted with images. Horrible images of what's to come. I realize what's in store for me with a small gasp. At the sound, the beast pushes me roughly into the mattress, holding my arms down as he continues to greedily drink my blood. I struggle in his grasp, but it just seems to entice him. I feel evidence of his feverish excitement pressing against me. Switching to a one handed grip, he hold my arms above me as his other hand creeps between us to pull his belt open. Loss of blood has made me weak, but I still fight like a mad woman when I feel his flesh against mine. I pull my leg up and sink my knee into his stomach. He's caught off guard long enough so that I manage to squirm out of his clutches. My head spins and I fall to the filthy floor, struggling against a wave a blackness. My throat is still weeping blood as I crawl over to one of the tables and grab a knife with my blood slippery hand. I prop myself against the wall and point the knife towards the monster with a shaky hand. He's still standing at the bed, a bemused expression on his face. "That's my monster. A fighter until the end." Before I can blink he's squatting in front of me, holding the wrist with the knife. "Too bad this isn't the end for you." He laughs, the sound quiet in my dying ears. "Go ahead, monster! Cut me! MAKE ME BLEED FOR YOU!" He sticks his tongue out and uses the knife in my hand to slice the organ in two. I release my weak grip on the blade in disgust and part my lips in a breathless shriek. The beast throws the knife to the side and pulls my face into his, thrusting his bleeding tongue into my mouth. I gag and try to clamp my lips closed but he grabs my face and pinches his fingers into my cheeks, forcing my mouth open. I choke on the hot blood trickling down my throat. The taste is sickening and maddening and...delicious. I feel the abnormal fluid filling me with strength. I stop trying to push him away and instead place my hands on the side of his head, forcing his mouth onto mine harshly. The beast makes a deep sound in his throat and starts to pull back. I respond with a growl of my own and bite down on his torn tongue, releasing more of this cursed liquid, swallowing it with greed. I hear his laugh echoing in my head impossibly and remove my mouth from his. Panting like an animal, I stare at him through strange clouded vision. Everything is so vivid, yet so...hazy. What the hell is happening to me?! A tremor courses through my body, quickly followed by a sharp bolt of pain. I frantically wipe at my lips, spitting to remove the trace of the monster's blood from my mouth. "It's too late, Madelyn. Welcome to the first of your endless nights with me." He doubles over in laughter. My muscles tense and relax with some unknown change. I curl into a ball, keening to myself as my heart flutters irregularly. With a final, damning thump...it stops. My mind races, thoughts chasing each other like lions and hyenas. All I can think about is blood and blood and pain and more blood. I cover my ears to block the vampire's mad laughter, nails digging into my scalp. He's made me like him! No no no. Like him! I cut my wailing off to a low moan as I envision myself exacting abominable suffering upon the creature than did this. Soon the moaning turns into my own malevolent snickering. My maker and I meet eyes, joined in ill humor. Just you wait. Hehehehe. Wait. I'll kill you. Hehehe. You'll pay. Hehehehehe.


	22. Chapter 22

October of 1954

Gotta keep my eyes open. I'm stumbling around my prison, battling an unwelcome fatigue. My eyelis are heavy. The laughing maniac left an hour ago. An hour? Or was it longer? Was it just a minute ago? I shake my head, discombobulated. Every fiber of my being is telling me to sleep. Don't want to. I start to drift..

Blood. Hunger. So hungry. Laughter laughter. Blood. He's laughing, sharp teeth smeared with my blood. I'm laughing right back, thrusting my fists into his body. Pulling out handfuls and handfuls of entrails. Punching and kicking and biting until he's nothing but a puddle of bile. I'm hungry. Sweet flesh calls to me. Hearts pumping out blood and blood and so much blood. Feed. Drench myself in blood. Blood. BLOOD BLOOD BLOOD.

I scream myself awake. It's not a frightened scream. Not frightened. Frightening. I sound like a crazed animal. With a feral snarl I pic the worktable up and throw it against the wall. I turn the sparse furnishings in the room to splinters and scrap. "WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME?!" I shriek to no one. I pound on the thick steel door. "LET ME OUT! LET ME OUT, BEAST!" Collapsing in front of the only thing in the room I can't destroy. "I'm so hungry. So hungry. What has he done to me?" Drifting off again. My dreams full of death and brutality.

My eyes snap open. It's much later. The lull that tugged me into unconsciousness no longer pulls on me. Still, in this altered state...I sense him coming. I feel a twinge of the old fear but now it's tainted with something else. My protective cowering is seeming more like a predatory crouch. I smile a little. Let him come. My sharp teeth prick my lip and the smile melts off. What am I doing? This isn't...me? The door swings open. His eyes scan the room, smirking slightly at the demolition. The smirk turns into a full grin when his eyes settle on me. He claps his hands together like a proud soccer mom. "You've been redecorating? How lovely, my monster." He waves his hand at me. "Stand up, come closer. Let me see my monster in all her glory." Instinct tells me to stay down. Make him come to me, then tear his throat out. I tense so slightly. No. No. Behave, Maddie. Make him think..make him think you're still his. I rise slowly, hesitatingly. Looking at the ground as I approach him. I can almost feel how pleased he is with himself. He lifts my chin and I meet his eyes. I keep my stare unwavering, but submissive. "How do you feel, monster?" I have the briefest forewarning before I feel him prodding around my mind. Thoughts are whirring so fast. It's a battle to keep the necessary ones hidden. I'm so hungry, please. What has happened to me? What am I? Please. Hungry. Help. His face twists to a modicum of pity as he gently caresses my face. "What am I thinking? Selfish, thoughtless master. You must be famished, little monster."

Call me that while you still can. I'll see you torn to shreds. His caressing hands pause for a millisecond. Catching myself, I stammer out: "P-please...sir. I'm very hungry. Please?"

Reassured, he smiles at me. "Let me bring you some...thing to eat." Placing his hand firmly on the nape of my neck, he pushes me to my knees. "Close your eyes, monster. No peeping." I hear the door unlatch and swing open as he exits the room. A minute and forty seven seconds later he re enters. Eyes still closed, I cock my head to the side in curiosity towards a new presence. A mouthwatering smell pervades my mind. It's rich and robust. More tantalizing than any meal I've ever indulged in. I rise of my own accord, eyes still closed, taking deep heady breaths. "Open your eyes, monster." I abide. Before me is...a child. A young girl. Four, maybe five years old. Less than a dozen strides away from me. Dazed look on her face. I can hear her little heart beating calmly. I can FEEL the blood running through her veins. I want it. All of it. I envision myself leaping forward, sinking my teeth into her ripe flesh. Ripping her little body to shreds and drinking her dry. I start to move forward when I hear his laugh.

What am I doing? I won't do this! Madelyn, you're not a monster! I fight down the hunger as far as it will go. Not very far, but ditant enough to send me scrambling to the opposite wall. Putting as much distance between myself and this depraved offering. "What's wrong, monster? I know you hunger. Are you denying the fresh meal I'm providing for you?" His voice is light, mocking.

I clench my eyes shut. "I'll never...I'm not like you! You're the monster!"

He laughs at me, but the laughter is undertoned with anger. "Perhaps I haven't conditioned you as well as I thought." I don't look up as I hear him and the child exit. Her blood continues to perfume the air. I clutch at my head, still fighting the hunger. He returns. "Tsk, tsk. I was hoping I wouldn't have to resort to these methods anymore, Madelyn." I the faint slither of metal. "Look at me, Madelyn. Look at your master." I cover my face, cowering. But under my hands, my face is more serene than it should be. Until...CRACK. Sharp steel bites into my flesh. I yelp and pull my bloodied hands from my face. In my master's grasp is the whip. The same whip that took most of the skin from my back when I turned 17. The weapon that whipped me raw. He raises his arm to strike again. Looking him dead in the eye, I shriek. Not out of fear, out of madness. The madness he inflicted on me. When the arm comes down I catch him by surprise and grab at the steel cords, even as they taste my flesh again. Any humor in his face dissolves. "You...DARE?! Have you lost all your manners?" And he's in front of me, hand around my throat, lifting me to my feet. I growl and he slams me against the wall hard enough that I feel the brick shudder. Dazed, I still manage to struggle in his grip. Then, he's laughing again. "I should of known you'd be a handful. That's just fine..." He presses himself against me, running his tongue along my jawline. "...I wouldn't haven't any other way." He releases his grip, and before I can regain my bearings, I'm struck again. Again, I grab at the whip. Anger dissipated, he laughs in deranged glee. The whip catches me across the hip, cutting to the bone. It slips through my fingers to snap around my shoulder. Again. Ripping into to my chest. Across my knees, and I fall. His arm raises, falls. Raises, falls. Every inch of me feels flayed and raw. Even imbibed with whatever cursed strength he's given me, I fold to his will. The last blow cutting along the side of my face. He's panting with exertion. Me, with agony. My blood pools on the concrete. I lay in the puddle, broken beyond human limits. Eyes bleary with my own blood. I hear the whip fall to the floor. I hear his belt buckle snapping open. There's no fight left as he climbs on top of me. My head falls to the side, my mind absent as he violates my ruined form.

The next night, he brings the child back in. Languid from loss of blood, my mind unsound, I feed. Her blood is the sweetest nectar. Her innocent screams sound like music to me. My maker watches with a pleased smile. When her small body is spent, I find myself humming quietly, high on her life fluid. He holds a hand out to me, enticing me to dance to the tune shared in our minds. And I go. Willingly.


	23. Chapter 23

December of 1954

My maker is humming a jaunty tune to himself. His back is to me as he readies today's instrument of torture. I perch on the edge of my mattress in a tranquil calm. At least, that's what I want him to perceive. I've kept up the serene, submissive act he delights in for the past month and a half. Learning bare snippets of information on my new state of being from his deranged ramblings. Feeding from what he brings me. Mostly children. Behaving for him. Taking any punishment he exacts. Trembling and cowering when it seems necessary. Keeping my motives hidden. Most importantly...strengthening myself. Preparing. Preparing for tonight. My own laughter echoes through my head and I find myself fighting a smile.

I know I can't make this last as long as I'd like. He's a clever, ferocious beast. I'm well aware of how quickly he can and will turn the tables on me once I rise up out of this pathetic facade. However I manage to bring about his end, it will be too merciful. I owe him more suffering than I can exact. For my family. For my life. For the past fourteen months of anguish and misery. The faces of my slaughtered family flash through my mind. The beatings. The mental rape. The brutal, physical rape. The time he took to slowly destroy the honorable young woman that I was, before he turned me into this deathless monster. He made me in his image, he doesn't realize that yet. But, he will.

"Madelyn." He beckons to me without turning around. "Come to me, monster." I rise obediently and approach him. Eyes cast down, hands linked in front of me. Just how he likes. He turns to face me, and peripherally I glance at the lit kerosene lamp on the table. And the red hot branding irons next to it. The mere sight of such items would have made me quake in fear before. Now, it's just ammo for my revenge. He gestures to my blouse. "Take that off." I comply. He grazes his hands along my shoulders appreciatively, leaning in to run his nose along my neck. "Ah, my monster. You still smell just as sweet as ever." He turns me away from him abruptly. One hand still retaining a firm grip on my collarbone, he reaches to the adjacent table. "This is something I've wanted to do for quite some time. I didn't think you could handle it...as a mortal." He laughs. "A shame, I could of marked you as mine for eternity." I feel the heat exuding from the iron before it even touches my body. It presses to my skin with a sizzle. Despite myself, I let out a small whimper. It hurts, and I can smell my scorched flesh in the air. He inhales deeply, savoring the scent. "...so sweet." I try to keep my reactions minimal. It's when he presses the burning tip into the small of my back, dragging it up to the nape of my neck, tracing a fiery course of agony along my spine, that I unwillingly let loose with a pained wail. At the sound, his hand whips around, striking me on my cheek before clenching around my throat. With the other hand, he holds the hot iron centimeters away from my face. "NOT ANOTHER SOUND!" He bellows. "You'll stay quiet, or I'll jam this down your sweet little throat." I don't speak. Don't move. After a moment, he relinquishes his grip. "Good girl. Good monster." He pats me on my head before continuing the branding. I take my mind beyond the pain. Focusing on my vengeance. Adding this moment to the arsenal. Envisioning all the lovely ways I can send this beast to hell. Strangling him with his own entrails. Dismembering him until he resembles a fleshy pillow. Setting him ablaze and dancing around the flames. Oh, I hope he screams! A malevolent giggle slips from my lips. I feel him freeze behind me. NOW!

Before he tenses for attack, I spin around. Grasping his jaw with both hands, I give a mighty wrench, dislocating it from it's socket and ripping tendons. Still taken aback, he lashes out, landing a blow across my chest. I feel my clavicle snap. The pain hinders nothing. I grab the metal chair next to me and fly at him, thrusting the chair legs into his gut and slamming him against the wall. "...you. YOU! You little..." His speech is cut off when I slam the chair across his skull, opening a fissure in his scalp. The sight of his blood sends me leaping at him, tossing the chair to the side. He catches my fist as I attempt to thrust it through his chest. He swipes his nails across my face, laying the skin open. I feel a runner of my own flesh flap against my cheek wetly. With a growl, he grabs me around the waist, flinging me hard against the ground. I see him draw his foot back and roll away a second too late. The kick catches me in the ribs, shattering two of them. I cough painfully. He draws his foot back again, aiming for my face. I catch it before it makes contact, and savagely bite into his ankle. My teeth grind against the bone as I yank at his other leg. He falls backward to the floor. I release my jaws from his leg and pounce on him, straddling him with my hands around his throat. And to my disdain...to my FURY. He laughs at me. His grin is wide, mocking me. "Ha ha ha, oh my monster! My brutal little BEAST! Ha! Ha ha!" I toss my head back and shriek. The sound of it reverberates with madness. I bring my face down to him, meeting his eyes, falling into his mind. I bring forth the deep terrors. All the things he hides from himself, that he thought he could hide from me. I bring horrific memories, screaming to the forefront of his brain. Twisting and gnarling the thoughts into unspeakable horrors. For the first time in the fourteen months I've been trapped with this beast, he is afraid. Terrified. I see it in his eyes and relish it with a smile. My hand flashes to the floor, grabbing one of the branding irons that rolled off the table in our brawl. Still hot, it blisters the skin on my hand before I stab it into each of his wide, aghast eyes. Then, finally...I hear that sound I've yearned for. He screams in agony. Sweet, sweet agony. I only enjoy the music of it for a moment, before clamping my mouth over his and biting away his tongue, his lips. Tearing the skin from his face with my fangs. A throaty, gurgling sound emits from the bleeding hole of his maw. I curl my hands into claws and tear into his chest. I punch and rip, pulling parts from inside him and tossing them aside like garbage. Eventually my fists start scraping the concrete under what used to be his body. I stand up, dripping with his foul effluence. Striding over to the table, I grab the kerosene lamp. I splash the flammable liquid on the walls and the floor, upending the last bit over my maker. Picking up the matchbook from the table, I strike one, casting it onto his body. In moments, the beast is engulfed in flames. Flames that quickly spread along, chasing me to the shelter's door. I pause with my hand on the hatch. Briefly oblivious to the heat scorching my already tender flesh. Eyes closed, I deliberate. Should I stay? Stay and permanently end this? Even if he's dead, he still made me...his monster. My lip lifts in a condescending snarl. NO. "I'll never die for you again." I heave open the door and tread blindly out of my burning prison. When I open my eyes, I'm staring at the moon through a light flurry of snow. I'm out. I'm free. I frown. Not free...but out. LIBERATED! The serene winter's night is ruptured by my delirious laughter, and after awhile the laughter sounds like screaming. Screaming diverting to sobs as I enter the genesis of my new...life.


	24. Chapter 24

I had finally convinced Mongrel to join me in a hunt. The couple, in their late 20's, deemed themselves some sort of modern-day Mickey and Mallory. Robbed a restaurant and a couple gas stations, taking the lives of over a dozen victims in the process. I knew Mongrel wouldn't comply if the prey was less than deserving. The cops had been scouring the city for this couple for almost a month. It took the two of us less than a half hour to find the abandoned rancher they had retreated to.

I entered the dilapidated old house first, the monster in me roused and ready to feed. Mongrel trailed in after me. I could see he was having the usual doubts. We went farther in, catching the scent of the young killers. The nearness of the kill causing a predatory grin to arise on my face. I dart forward silently, entering the room where the female is sitting on a mattress facing away from me. She doesn't notice my presence until it's too late, and my hands are around her neck. She manages a scream before I tighten my grip and cut off her air supply. I'm dragging her out towards the front room when the male makes himself known. Gun in hand, he fires in my direction. I turn swiftly, using his girlfriend as a shield. She takes the bullet through her abdomen. I'm about to bemoan the waste of a good meal when his second bullet catches me in the thigh. My maddened cry is drown out by Mongrel's furious roar. He lets the shooter take off out into the front lawn and almost reach his car before thundering after him. Not wanting to miss out on a lively show, I take a few enthusiastic bites out of my own casualty before tossing her ravaged body to the ground. Limping out onto the yard, I watch in awe as Mongrel carries out a deathly dance with his victim. The final moment comes quickly as he sinks his teeth into his prey, draining him of blood and life. He discards his meal and looks up at me, mouth smeared with precious fluid. I blink at him, practically in awe."Almost didn't think ya had it in you."

He gives me a wry smile before joining me on the porch. Kneeling, examining the bullet wound in my thigh with bloodstained hands, he comments: "It's just a flesh wound. His aim wasn't worth shit. Are you ok?"

I nod slowly, transfixed on the blood grimed into the lines of his knuckles. My body moving of its own accord, I pull his hand up to my mouth, leisurely licking the vitae from his fingers, reveling in the taste of the blood and his flesh. He slowly rises to his feet, and in his eyes I see a fresh, new hunger.

We stare at one another for several moments. A uncertain awareness is unfurling inside of me. Is this desire? Lust? I find myself once again greeting a new feeling with receptivity, however hesitant. Breaking the lull, I take a purposeful step into Mongrel's personal bubble. Placing my hands on either side of his head, I trace my tongue along the outline of his mouth, lapping the blood from his lips. He's practically vibrating with repressed need. Pulling away about a centimeter he says in a voice so low it's almost a purr "Maddie...are you sure?"

I bare my fangs at the superfluous nickname. "Just shut up..."

With a growl, he grabs a fistful of my hair and our lips meet in a bruising lock. The kiss is frenzied, tongue and teeth and burning compulsion. I press myself against his assenting form, relishing the strange feeling of his body's approximation to mine. I let a hand run down his chest, plucking the buttons open on his shirt and pausing at his belt. His kisses trail down the side of my jaw, punctuated with nips and bites until he reaches the tender skin above my collarbone. He bites into my flesh with a groan as I unbuckle his belt and explore the territory below his waist. I touch the bulge in front of his pants with only the slightest hesitation. In a breath, he slams me against the porch rail, wrestling my pants off and shredding them in the process. He slides his arms around me, grasping my ass and lifting me up into the porch railing. I squirm and pull him flush against me to bite at his earlobe. His hand creeps between my legs. I'm lost in this revelation of pleasure, and let out a whimpering moan as his fingers tease me. When I press my pelvis into the rhythm of his hands movements, a deep growl issues from the depths of Mongrel's throat. He removes his fingers from between my thighs and before I can fuss he thrusts himself into me. I feel as if my whole being is deliciously burning. Lost in the sensation, I tilt my head back, closing my eyes. Mongrel's hand grasps my chin, forcing me to look at him. I catch his lip between my teeth and give it a gentle bite as his thrusting intensifies. Wrapping my legs around him I claw at his back hard enough to draw blood. The smell of it brings me spiraling into an abyss of physical feeling. I'm losing control and enjoying it. Not from murder or death but something new. This is desire. My desperate moans in Mongrel's ear send him into a frenzy. I can feel him being pushed over the edge. I dig my nails into his chest, my own cries muffled against his skin as he grips the nape of my neck, biting into it as he comes inside of me with a bellowing howl. I shiver as his tongue traces the trail of blood from my throat to my breast. We're both panting like animals as our frantic movement slows to a undulating grind. His face still in my chest, I feel his mouth turn up into a smile when I press my lips above his brow, kissing the cool skin there.

Suddenly, with a loud crack, the porch railing splinters, sending us tumbling into the front lawn. Both laughing, he wraps his arm around me when I drape across his chest. At some point, Mongrel attempts to talk. I hold my hand over his mouth and give him a gentle glare before he can try to apologize or try to condone our behavior. I only remove my hand when he rolls his eyes, signalling defeat. We lay in the grass for awhile not moving or talking. Eventually I wrestle his jacket away from him, pulling it over my shredded and stained clothes. "C'mon, we should start back. It's gonna take me longer to walk since you just like... fucked me bowlegged."

He chortles laughter, shaking his head. "You're not right in the head Maddie...um...Madelyn."

I growl and deliver a punch to his arm. "No, really?!" as we amble down the street, heading back home with sated smiles.


	25. Chapter 25

August of 1986.

I'm sitting in the small place I share with my room mate Jonah Veverka. Outwardly we probably appear as your run of the mill punk teenagers scrounging in a swanky yet affordable apartment. Mostly likely paid for by mommy and daddy. The very thought of it makes me laugh aloud, causing Jonah to shoot me a brief glance. He's used to my random outbursts by now. We've been living together for over a year now, and associating for almost three years. Jonah's a twenty one year old manic depressive with a strange fondness for pink haired psychopaths. Not that he knew I was a psycho when we met each other. He was your typical wandering runaway, sleeping in homeless shelters or parks...the latter being where I found him. We struck up an unusually natural conversation. Even more unusual, I didn't feel the overwhelming blood lust I normally felt around mortals. Something about this blue eyed, faux hawked, damaged breather struck a unknown chord in me. In no time I had developed something I hadn't experience for over thirty years. Friendship.

It was purely accidental and abundantly comical how he came into knowledge of my...non human state. He came upon me wandering at our usual haunt in the park. I was in an erratic mindset, having just executed a group of beatniks with creative use from a couple heavy duty staplers and a flat iron. I couldn't decipher the odd looks Jonah was giving me until he brought me to the park's pond. Glancing at my rippling reflection, I observed the copious bloodstains on my face and clothes. "Heh heh...whoops...how'd I miss that?" Before I could catch myself I was discoursing an analysis of my earlier murderous foray. Halfway through my recollections, lucidity returned. In a spurious decision, I divulged a few details about my undead status, figuring I could just kill the kid afterwards. Much to my surprise, he accepted my story with a grim compassion. Jonah was a firm follower of the supernatural, and as I later found out, not all that mentally stable himself. So our friendship forged a stronger, albeit queer bond. One thing led to another, and with my illicit aptitude of acquiring funds, we bunked down in our quaint little abode.

Jonah's glaring at his prescription like it's personally offended him. He shakes the pill bottle with a oppressive frown. "I'm sick of taking this crap." He grouses, tossing the bottle onto the table.

"Be glad you have something that can control the...crap." I respond. "Some of us ain't that lucky."

Crossing his arms and staring at me, he retorts: "Well, you know. Maybe it wouldn't be so awful if you had someone by your side to help you through the badness."

I scoff at his words. "Oh, ok. By all means, stick around next time I lose it. I'm sure it'll be quite a show for the few minutes before I tear you to shreds in a frenzy."

He rolls his eyes. "I don't mean by your side like.." he gestures to himself. "..this." "I mean, if I was less fragile. Like...you?"

The fire of this old argument is flickering and I can feel my temper trying to get the best of me. Unconsciously I stalk into the kitchen, putting space between us before I reply. "Like me, Jonah? Like me? How many times do we need to have this conversation? I didn't want this. I NEVER wanted to be like this, and I SURE AS HELL am never gonna do this to someone else!" I unclench my hands and place them flat on the counter. The recurring argument is putting me on edge. "Let's just...just drop the subject. This isn't even a consideration. Conversation closed."

I sense him mentally backpedaling, knowing he brought up a sore subject. "Ok. White flag. I give up. Jeez, Maddie...lighten up a little."

I glare at him. "Don't...call me that." My father's voice, long dead, echoes in my ears. His Maddie. A simple nickname, but always used with love. Spoken with such a caring context. No one is ever going to care for me enough to use that nickname. Not the way I am now.

Jonah raises his hands in surrender. "Sorry, sorry. I forgot. Don't...heh..bite my head off." I give him a withering look but a twitch of a smile crosses my face. Slowly we ease back into normal chit chat. The tension in the air dissolving as I reign in my aggravation. I know he's still harping on the idea of me turning him. He always is. The boy can't see what a awful idea that would be. Then again, how could he. He didn't go through...I derail that train of thought. I'll never pass on this curse. This. The madness. The memories. It'll die with me. I'm still brooding over the negative when I turn in for the day.

I wake up as the sun sinks under the horizon. The faintest scent of blood tinges the air. With a deep inhale I pinpoint the blood as my own. Briefly perplexed, I shrug it off. Probably scratched myself during one of my nightmares. The house is empty, and my face darkens at that revelation. He's probably pissed at me. I sigh. He'll get over it. He's a good kid. One day he'll figure out I'm actually doing him a kindness by not turning him into a undead lunatic. I catch another whiff of my vitae and it awakens the inevitable hunger. Guess it's dinner time.

I return to our apartment, gorged as usual. Overindulging helps with the whole, not eating my roommate thing. Jonah's home. I halt a few steps into the living room. My head cocks to the side as I breath in his scent. He smells...different. The faintest scent of...my blood. What the? I sniff again. No. There's no way. He's sitting on the couch, peering at me over a book. His eyes don't belie any emotion. I stare at him, concentrating on his aura. His normal rich blue is churning with tar like swirls of black. Shame. Fear. My steady gaze unnerves him, and the black swirls spin nauseatingly. "Jonah. What...what did you do?!" He looks at me guiltily but doesn't answer. "Godamn it Jonah, answer me!" His response is instantaneous. "I took some of your blood while you were sleeping." His honesty knocks me for a loop. I angrily run a hand through my hair, exasperated. "What!? Why would you..." He starts to approach me and I hold up my hand. "Stop! Just...stay back." Again, his response is instant. He heels like a well trained dog and I feel my stomach turn. This isn't what I want. A pet. A slave. The very thought sickens me. A purple haze of loyalty seeps into his aura. Loyalty to me. I avert my eyes. Why did he do this? He's made himself into my...ghoul. "Please, can't I explain? I sink down to the carpet, clutching my head. "Yeah. Yeah, Jonah, Why don't you explain. Explain...what the FUCK you did and why." I feel him attempt to move closer again and I snap: "And for the love of...just STAY over there!" His voice drones through my ears, waxing and waning like the moon. His reasoning...it doesn't even matter does it? He stole my blood! Betrayed my wishes for his own selfish wanting. A fucking thief. I told him...I TOLD HIM. He betrayed me. BETRAYED ME. I feel malicious anger trying to take control. My hands clench into fists, wanting to hurt. Hurt him for being like every other waste of a soul. I bounce up to my feet and stalk towards the door. I've got to get out of here before I do something I'll regret. While I still can. While I would still regret it. I hear Jonah shout after me, his voice tinged with hurt. I'm out of the building and darting out into the woods before he even finished his outcry.

I don't slip into an episode, much to my surprise. Hunkering down under a tree, I try to rationalize through the situation. For as long as I've known Jonah, I've known he's been unhappy. The mood stabilizers he gets from the clinic barely put a hamper on the depression. I've felt it, even through my own mental issues. The kid's had reason enough to be depressed. Ran away from his abusive mother five years ago, on his own ever since. Well, at least until he met me. How a manic depressive 21 year old could possibly find solace in a 48 year old perpetually teenage lunatic is beyond me. The only thing more mind boggling is the fact that I manage to reciprocate at least a facsimile of affection towards him. It's hard to NOT care about someone who finds out that not only are you a walking corpse, but you're also clinically insane and enjoy slicing people up for shits and giggles...and still seeks out your presence. Even with the burdening threat that any minute I could snap and turn him into a human pincushion. I guess it's a sign of my fortified self control that we've sustained a carnage-free friendship thus far. I shake my head, trying to clear the inane thoughts. I need some outsider advice on this one.

Pinpointing the closest empty house on the block, I make quick work of letting myself in. These people are so trustworthy, leave their doors unlocked so any old creep can get in. I snort, and set eyes on what I'm looking for. Picking up the phone, I dial a number by heart. A man picks up after a few rings. "Pullman, here."

I clear my throat. "Hey, Nick. It's uh...it's Madelyn. Remember you said to call if I need anything?" Cutting to the chase, I blurt out: "What can you tell me about ghouls?" For nearly an hour, he educates me on the effect of Kindred blood on mortals. Despite the amusement in his voice, he expresses concern. I dissuade his offer of help. I'll accept a little Cainite knowledge here and there, but draw the line at any tangible assistance. Thanking Nick, I disconnect the line. Knowing I've avoided the inevitable long enough, I head back to Jonah and I's apartment.

I enter quietly, and proceed to Jonah's room. He sits cross legged on the bed, looking at me expectantly. The silent stare down continues for a few moments before he caves in and speaks. "Listen, Mad. I'm...sorry. I mean, I'm not. Because, well.." He let's out a weird laugh and shrugs his shoulders. "But I'm sorry I did this against your wishes. I was in a bad state of mind after you went to sleep for the day. I got a little drunk...and a got a little irrational. Honestly, I thought you would wake up before I even got to, well, you know."

"Before I woke up and slapped the shit out of you for attempting a stunt like this?"

He tries to look ashamed and fails. "I didn't even think anything would happen. I knew it wouldn't turn me into a vampire or anything. I just..I fucked up."

I flutter my hand at him. "I get it, J. It's...y'know, let's just forget this happened. It's a fluke, whatever."

He looks at me skeptically, but then smiles. "Really?" I shoot him a look and he laughs. "Ok, ok! I won't take it for granted."

November of 1986

"Madelyn. Mad. C'mon! I only need a little bit! I feel like I'm cracking up..." Jonah's voice wavers with desperation. In the past three months his normally calm demeanor has taken a drastic turn for the worse. I thought it would be easy enough to wean him off my blood. He started to get harrowed a month after our last argument and the preceding blood theft. Against my better judgement, I relented and gave him another supplemental drink. Not the first mistake I've made, and I'm sure it won't be the last. "Please. Just one more, what can it hurt?" I grit my teeth and turn from him, agitated and more than a little bit worried. He grabs my arm brusquely, despite my growl of warning.

"Jonah. Get...your fucking hand off me. Now." He holds on a second too long, uncharacteristically smirking at me. Testing my patience. "Jonah..."

He blinks, releasing his grip and seeming to come back into himself. "I'm sorry, Mad. I don't know what the hell is up with me. My brain's been.." He rubs his face in a eerily familiar way. When he pulls his hands away, he looks despondent. "I'm gonna go lay down or something. Try to get my head back on straight." He gives me a half hearted smile before wandering back to his room, after a moment I hear his door slam. Fuck. He's losing it. This is my damn fault. I never should of let him have my blood. No, I never should of introduced myself into his life in the first place. I'm like the embodiment of a human wrecking ball.

I head towards my bedroom, passing the bathroom. The cabinet above the sink stands open a bit. The sight of it sets me on edge for some reason. I push it closed and happen to glance into the wastebasket. Hidden under a thin layer of refuse, I find Jonah's prescriptions; mood stabilizers and anti depressants, still full from his last refill. I set them on the sink and stare at the bottles. Shit. No wonder he's so haggard. This, on top of the whole ghouling situation. I slam my fist on the porcelain. Shit. In a heart beat, I'm outside his bedroom door. My hand is poised to knock when the smell hits me. SHIT! I push the door open. It swings into the wall, gouging a hole in the plaster with the knob. I don't even notice. Jonah's sitting on the floor, a straight razor glinting red on the floor next to him. Thin streams of blood flow from the self inflicted wounds running up both arms. The smell of fresh vitae makes my head spin. I shake it off and take a step towards him. "What the hell are you doing?! Have you lost your mind Jonah?!" I speak figuratively but when he meets my eyes I see that's exactly what has happened. Oh god.

"Mad, I can't do this. Everything's so... I knew this would get your attention!" He holds his bleeding arms out towards me.

I recoil, despite the mouth watering smell wafting from his veins. "Let me...let me get you something the wrap that with. And your meds. You need to take your meds, ok? You'll be alright." I start to back out of the room. Jonah scrambles up, stumbling into me. I catch him before he falls back down. His blood seeps into my shirt, hot and moist. I clench my jaw, turning my face away. "Jonah, please. You've gotta...I can't...please sit and let me get you a towel." The smell of his blood is burning a path through my self control.

"No! This is what I want!" Crazed, he forces his arm near my face, smearing my mouth with precious fluid. Aghast, I push him away. He lands on his bed with a thump. Frantically wiping my mouth, I try to remove the invading taste. Jonah picks up the razor from the floor, pointing the blade at me. "God DAMN it, Madelyn! JUST TURN ME! You can teach me and...help me!"

"Turning you won't help anything, you fool! Threatening me isn't going to change my mind. It's never going to happen and you know it!" Stress and hunger pushing my temper over the ! I'm stronger than this damn it! I won't...eat...my only friend. "You pull this fucking trick...what's this proving, Jonah? You think being embraced will solve your problems? Did it solve mine? You think you're crazy now...have a taste of what crazy REALLY is!"

Eyes locked on his, I send an onslaught of memories into his mind. My memories, blistering with pain and terror. Oh my god, what am I doing?! I halt, disgusted with myself. Our minds still connected, I can hear his thoughts churning into mine. Please stop. Please. Maddie, it's horrible. Please. I can't take it. Stop. Stop stop stop. I try to break the telepathic connection. Can't...I hear him screaming but can't tell if it's out loud or in our heads. My brain is fatigued beyond rescue. I can't even react when Jonah turns the razor back in his own direction. He presses the blade against his throat and slashes deep, ear to ear. The blood spurts out in a gush. He falls back against the mattress, gasping wetly and choking. I drop to my knees, eyes still on him. His thoughts scream at my erratically. Please, don't let me die. Turn me, Mad. Turn me. I didn't want to die. I don't want to die. And I can't...move. I just stare as my friend bleeds out. His clothes are soaked with red. Soon the bed is, too. The smell is everywhere. I hear his last breath. The last desperate thump of his heart. Still staring. His eyes stare back at me, but he's not in there anymore. I'm still in the same spot when the sun starts to rise. Moving for the first time in hours, I scramble into the closet, slamming the door shut and curling into the detritus on the floor.

When I wake up again, I feel different. Shut off. I walk out of the closet calmly. Not sparing a glance to the body. I grab a bag from my room, stuffing a few essential items in it. I leave the apartment and within the hour I'm on a bus. Don't know where I'm going. Don't really care. I don't, do I? I close my eyes, willing myself into a callous calm I build a wall up. It's when the last brick is in place I hear his voice again. The hiss in my mind. Good girl. Good monster...


	26. Chapter 26

"Back the fuck up you crazy bitch! What are you on crack or something?!" My lips twist into a demented smile. Crack...ooh. I imagine the satisfying crack of a spinal column and continue to stalk the rattled hooligan down the alleyway. My grin widens when he pulls a gun from his waistband. "I'm serious bitch! I'll fuckin' shoot you!"

I laugh, giving him an eyeful of my sharp canines. "Ooh, you'll shoot me? Big man with a gun, eh? Why're you so scared of little ole me?" Despite the fact that the guy is a half a foot taller than me and outweighs me by a significant amount, I still smell his fear. It radiates from his pores and I absorb the intoxicating scent. I want more! I want him terrified! I whistle at the man pointing a pistol at me. When his attention focuses on me, I take a dip into his subconscious. Tweaking and twisting a few deep set fears, I bring his fright to a a fever pitch. It's absolutely delectable until he shoots at me in a panic. The first bullet grazes my ear with a whine, bringing thin blood. The second catches me in the shoulder. "Ow. Asshole." I laugh again, but it sounds more like a growl. "You're going to pay for that." I see his finger tense on the trigger and I pounce, knocking him off his feet. Fangs bared, I sink them into the hand with the gun. He howls in pain and relinquishes his grip. I pistol whip him across the face, giddy when I hear the pleasant crack of his jaw breaking. Tossing the gun into an adjacent dumpster, I give the guy a stern look. "Shut up! What're ya trying to get me caught?!" I bend forward to bite into his neck when he surprises me with a knee to the stomach. It catches me off guard enough so that he slithers out from under me, scrambling to his feet and shakily running down the alley. Damn it! It must of been those drinks at Elysium. My reflexes are off. I catch up with him, grabbing his head and bouncing it off the brick wall so that he collapses to the ground again. Agitated, I flip him onto his stomach and lift my leg up. With a cocky "Ha!" I bring my boot down on the small of his back, snapping a few vital vertebrae. He moans, face half in a puddle of filthy water and motor oil. Placing a foot on either side of his prone figure, I grab a handful of his hair. Pulling his head back harshly, I dig in, drinking noisily before dropping his head back into the puddle. Wrinkling my nose in distaste, I give him a hearty kick in the ribs. "Your blood tastes like shit. I think I need some more...alcohooool!" I'm giggling as I walk away from the body. I stop when I hear another muffled grunt. Rolling my eyes, I stomp back to my dinner. "Really? You're not even dead, yet?" I huff and hold his face down into the puddle until his struggles cease. I keep my grasp for another couple minutes to make sure he's finally kicked the bucket. Wiping my hands on my shirt, I make haste leaving the alley and joining back up with the throng of Kine in the city.

I spot my next destination. The neon displays in the window buzz annoyingly as I walk through the door. Wow. There's so many choices! I head to a safe looking shelf and peruse the brightly labeled bottles. Holy crap. Cotton candy flavored vodka? Cinnamon schnapps? Chocolate liquor? Where has this been all my life?! I grab an armful of bottles and plunk them onto the counter with a smile. The smile quickly fades when I meet eyes with the clerk. "ID." He demands, looking me up and down.

I blow my hair out of my face, exasperated. "C'mon man, I'm 67 years old! Respect your elders and let me buy my fuckin' booze!"

The clerk continues him impassive stare. "Either show me some ID or go on your way, Pinky." My lip curls at the nickname. I contemplate popping his eyes out and making him eat them but take heed of the security cameras. Damn it! I want my booze! Ooh, light bulb. I'll call Mongrel, he'll know what to do! I shoot a fake smile at the clerk and hold a finger up. "Just a moment, I have to make a phone call." I pick a contact and hold my cell to my ear.

"Thomas Maletoni speaking." What the? Tommy the priest? How do I even have his number?

"Whoops...I meant to call the Sheriff." I laugh. "Forgive me father, I've gotta go sin now!" I hang up and carefully hit the right speed dial. Mongrel's voicemail picks up. Daaaamn it! I leave my message at the beep. "Heeeey Sheriff Snookums." I snort. "Um...this guy..at the liquor store? He won't sell me anything! I told him I was 67 but...y'know...I think I'm gonna eat him. Hehehe..." I can practically see Mongrel's disapproving look through the phone. Coming up with an easier plan, I relent. "Ok, ok. Maybe I won't." I flip the phone shut and stuff it in my boot. I walk back up to the counter, place my elbows on it and rest my chin on my hands. The clerk raises an eyebrow, meeting my eyes. "Ahem. You're gonna let me have these alcoholic beverages. I don't need ID. I don't even need to pay, right? What do you care?" I delve into his brain, deadening his emotions.

He shrugs, submissively. "Yeah, sure, whatever. Do what you want." He sets a bag on the counter and bags the bottles in a subdued manner. I beam at him, grabbing my bag and flouncing out the door. That was easy! I bet I could use that power in all sorts of useful ways...or maybe just to get free stuff from stores.

An hour later I'm swinging idly in an empty playground. Well, mostly empty. The drained bodies of a young couple I caught canoodling lay in a heap by the jungle gym. I pause my momentum here and there to swig out of my bottle of blood and candy vodka concoction. "Eees deeleeshus!" I say to myself with a guffaw. I feel great. Trepidation about being a Harpy. Pfft. The stress from the ongoing feud between Pyotr and Tybalt. Pfft, who cares who did what now? Everyone should just get drunk and punch each other a little. Then call it a night. The thought of punching brings a teeny tremor of worry. Pyotr will probably punch my face off my skull if he finds out I've been conspiring with Tybalt. I scoff. Nah. Nah. Conspiring is such a dirty word. Just harmless chit chat, I'm not doing anything that's deserving of face punchy badness. When guilt starts attempting to rear it's ugly head, I quickly chase it away with a tasty gulp from my bottle. Nope nope nope. Ain't ruining my good time. I spend another hour or two swinging, occasionally switching it up and going down the slide. When my bottles go empty and I start to get bored I begin my trek home, singing to myself the entire way.

"You and me baby ain't nothing but mammals so let's do it like they do on the Discovery channel!" I sing off key as I stumble through the door. Mongrel's on the couch, and he sets his notebook on the end table as I struggle to get my boots off. I stand in the doorway barefoot, a sheepish grin on my face. "Hey! You're uh..you're home! I thought you'd be sheriffing...um..sheriffizing..something." I shrug.

He peers at me over his glasses. "Maddie. Are you...drunk?"

"What? Me? Psssh." I wave my hand dismissively. "I'm not drunk, per say. I um..had a drink. The Harpy bought me a drink! Notte...she's...I like her." I try to smile appealingly.

He pulls his cell phone out, putting his voicemail on speakerphone, and replays my message from earlier. "Oh, that. I just got some stuff. Y'know. And um drank it. Drunk..um..drinked it. I didn't kill the clerk though!" He almost looks impressed. "Ah. I did kill a guy in an alley though. But he shot me!" I point to the hole in my shirt over the now-healed bullet wound. "Oh, and there was the couple at the playground. They we're just mixers though..." I laugh, and burp. It tastes like cinnamon schnapps and blood. Yum.

He sighs and gestures to the couch. "C'mere. Sit down before you trip on your own feet." I give him a stink face, but shuffle towards the couch. "Wait, you've got blood on your shirt."

I roll my eyes. "When don't I?" I peel the shirt off and surprise him by plopping sideways into his lap. Leaning against the arm of the couch, I spread my hand expectantly. "Well, go on. Admonish me for my drunken antics. Chastise me...spank me I've been naughty." I say the last sentence with what I hope is a charmingly attractive smile, but I probably look like a doofus. He smirks with a raised eyebrow and pets my hair. It's soothing, and I rest my cheek on his shoulder in silence.

"So." Mongrel breaks the quiet, nonchalantly. "Why'd you feel the need to get drunk?"

I mumble a little. "I dunno. I mean, it was an ok night at Elysium. Did some Harpy stuff. Teased those Ventrue guys we were locked up with, y'know, Alastor and Roy. Haha." I pause, wiping at my mouth. "Called E. some names behind her back. Oh! And Marcus gave me a gift!"

Mongrel looks at me quizzically. "Really? And what was that?"

I smile, excited. "Crovax's tongue in this really neat box! Wanna see? It's in my boot.." I try to get up to show him and he gently pulls me back down.

"That's ok, dear. You can show me...later."

I pout, but maintain my position comfortably. After a few more moments of silence, I'm the one to break it. "I guess. I've been...distressed over all this...Tybalt/Pyotr stuff." He nods in accord, gesturing for me to continue. "This is all so new and confusing to me. The...um. Emotional part? Like, how are you supposed to know what side to choose? And who to kill? And if anyone even DESERVES to be killed." Mongrel must sense I'm on a roll, because he keeps quiet. I continue ranting as he strokes my head. "I don't want to see either of them die. And it sucks! I like death and carnage...I don't like these...feelings." I sigh. "I was pissed at Pyotr, but not enough to want him dead. Whether or not I trust him...that's a different story. But y'know. He treats me like I'm a human. Not like some homicidal halfwit." "And Tybalt. I really think he'd keep his word. He seems like the honest type. I can't NOT like the guy." I groan loudly. "I don't know how the hell people deal with these FEELINGS all the time. It's enough to drive ya crazy."

Mongrel shakes his head wearily. "Preaching to the choir there, deary." I lay my head back on his shoulder. The calm settles in again and Mongrel picks his notebook up. The faint sound of the pen scratching on paper is lulling me into a daze. Before succumbing to an intoxicated doze, I press my lips to his neck, mumbling contently. "You better not drool on me this time." He says under his breath.

Briefly roused, I wipe my mouth before responding. "I don't drool. Shaddup Sheriff...Snookums." and I drift back out of reality on the quiet wave of his laughter.


	27. Chapter 27

August of 1969. Bethel, New York.

The steady rain has tapered off to a light drizzle. Despite the wet weather, the night is alive with activity. Where the hell are all these people going? Led by my senses, I'm following a group of dirty looking hippies through the snarl of traffic. Wherever they're going, wherever I'M going...it smells amazing. When I come down a dirt road and set eyes on the jam-packed field. Dear god! Thousands, tens of thousands of walking blood bags. I'm almost spellbound by all the sights, sounds...and smells. Oh, the smell of so many meals! The massive throng of humans seem to be centered around a brightly lit stage. Banners hang everywhere. 3 Days of Peace & Music. Woodstock Music & Arts Fair Present An Aquarian Exposition. I'm instantly enthralled. Even from the road, I hear a man singing from the stage:

"Mississippi Queen, If you know what I mean

Mississippi Queen, She taught me everything."

I clap my hands and laugh aloud. This is perfect! Live music...and an all you can eat buffet! I slosh through the mud, intermingling with the crowd. Nodding along with the music, my eyes rake hungrily over the crowd of bodies. Men and women in various states of undress. Damp and sweaty and delicious. I escape notice with a bit of effort until I catch sight of a group of people classy enough to stand out in the clusters of flower children. The quartet is staring at me with a faint curiosity. I focus my senses, honing in on them. My head tilts to the side, scrutinizing their auras. Oh! They're...like me. Other Kindred! Eager to rendezvous with my own kind I traipse over to them. "Hi! I don't get to meet other dead'uns often. I'm Madelyn...isn't this great?" I laugh at the over eagerness in my voice.

The other vampires stare at me, affronted, until the perceivable leader reluctantly sticks a hand out to me. "I'm Susanna Rockefeller, and this is my family." She waves a hand to the other three Kindred, but doesn't introduce them.

"So, do you and your..eh..family do stuff like this often?" I catch one of the other vampires rolling his eyes. My smile fades a bit, sensing the indignation, and puzzling over it.

After a beat, the female responds. "My clan is devoted to the arts. Naturally, we would be drawn to a performance such as this. Despite the...unsavory company." Her companions snicker.

I keep the smile pasted on my face, ashamed of my desperation. "And what..um..what clan are you?"

A throaty males voice comes from behind me. "Toreador, can't ya tell? Bunch of pompous degenerates..."

The quartet turn their noses up almost in unison, the female replying: "Better a degenerate than a filthy mutt."

The newcomer laughs heartily. Speaking to me, he asks: "And what clan are you, darlin'?"

I turn to face him, briefly taken aback by his bright yellow eyes. "...Malkavian." I mumble. His slit-like pupils dilate as he gives me a toothy smile. I hear the haughty woman sigh.

"I believe this is our cue to part ways." The well dressed group strides away quickly. I narrow my eyes, distressed by the less-than-friendly encounter. The yellow eyed man puts an arm around me companionably. "Don't ya worry about them. Pretentious dicks. You're Madelyn, I heard. The name's Lawrence, but you'll call me Law if ya wanna stay on my good side."

I smirk at him. "As I've already scared off one group of Kin, I'll call you Law. And if YOU want to stay on MY good side, you won't call me Maddie."

"Fair enough, m'am." He tips an invisible hat to me, and we both laugh. "Come meet my coterie of miscreants." he says, and leads me to the other side of the field.

He informs me proudly that he's a Gangrel. His coterie consists of two other Gangrel, and a Nosferatu. I'm shocked to meet the Nos, who introduces herself as Kat, and is strikingly beautiful. From the little I've learned of the Nosferatu, they're all supposedly afflicted with hideous deformities. Kat explains how she wears the Mask of herself before she was Embraced. She briefly lets her false facade drop, displaying a visage deeply pockmarked with pits and sores, and other nauseating flaws. Wearing the beautiful face again, she grins at me good natured. "If you looked like that, wouldn't you hide behind a mask, too?" I bite my tongue, keeping hold of my tact.

"That's ok.." Law responds. "..we've all got our quirks don't we?" He smiles his fangy grin and pulls the back of his pants down enough so that I see a bit of striped fur. He wiggles thick black claws at me and laughs. "Ooh, and feel this." He grabs my hand, pulling it to his mouth. Running his tongue along my palm, I feel the rough abrasion, similar to a cats tongue. "It's safe to say I'm a tiger in the sack..." The group breaks into whoops of laughter. I join in, the levity of my companions putting me at ease. The other Gangrel introduce themselves as Shade and Stella. The latter being a forked tongued blond whose voice and posture make me curious as to what other serpent-like qualities she inherited. Shade is a large, dark skinned, imposing figure who speaks in a whisper so conflicting to his appearance that I can't help but be intrigued by the few words he says. The small coven accepts me into their company amiably.

"Have you eaten tonight, Madelyn?" Stella asks, with a wicked smile.

I look around the crowd, licking my lips. "Not...yet."

She grins and rubs her hands together conspiratorially. "A hunting we will go, friends?"

Law cuts in. "Uhn uh. Reel in your beasts, ladies. We've gotta catch Creedence first...then it's chow time."

My eyes light up. "Creedence?! Oooh, even I can contain my blood lust until then!" My comment spurs another wave of humor. Within a half hour, Creedence Clearwater Revival is crooning Down on the Corner and Born on the Bayou. We dance wildly among the unaware Kine. Our antics drawing no extra attention from the unconcerned hippies.

Janis Joplin takes the stage, and even the sounds of Take Another Little Piece of My Heart can't distract the overwhelming need for fresh blood. We head towards a darker section of the field, each scoping our potential prey even as Kat and I unconsciously dance our way through the crowd. Law spots his meal first and lopes gracefully towards the young woman. I pinpoint an inebriated couple sneaking off behind a tent and go into predator mode. "Ooh, those two look delicious. Enjoy, Maddie."

I growl over my shoulder at Kat, who chuckles nervously. "Don't call me that."

She spreads her hands apologetically before approaching a shirtless man tromping barefoot through the mud. I follow my couple around the tent, where they latch onto each other like mollusks. When I step in front of the, they pause their kiss. "Mmm, hey cutie. Wanna taste?" The woman slurs at me, reaching out to caress my shoulder.

I curve my lips into what I hope is a seductive smile and take her hand. Glancing at the boyfriend, I ask: "You sure three's not a crowd?" He blinks slowly, staring like he's entranced.

"Three's company, right?" Actually two's company, but who am I to argue? The woman pulls me in between them, and my lips meet hers in a sloppy but sensual kiss. Boyfriend's hands creep around, grazing my breasts as he covers my neck with licks and nibbles. Tracing my hand up the woman's stomach, across her chest and around to the base of her neck, gripping it lightly as I explore the soft confines of her mouth with mine. I break our lips contact and bring the man's hand up to my mouth, running my tongue along his index finger before pushing it between the woman's lips. She sucks the digit eagerly as I trail kisses along her neck. She emits a deep moan when I sink my fangs into her yielding flesh. I catch myself expelling a noise of my own as I swallow down her life's blood. It coats my throat like syrup and I drink until she slips from my grasp. I move quickly, before the man can react. Spinning around to face him, I twist my foot around his ankle, pulling so he drops back into the mud. Whether dazed from pleasure or just plain intoxicated, he doesn't react when I hike his pants around his ankles and bite deeply into his thigh, sighing when the femoral artery lets loose it's gush of vitae. After a moment or two of vigorous feeding, I detach myself from him. His heart still beats, distractingly loud, so I snap his neck. The sharp crack seems to echo in the air. I wipe my mouth on his damp shirt and rise from the dirt. My head spins a little. Mmm...wow, either I overindulged or flower child blood is extra potent. I linger by the tent for another moment, staring at the smears of mud on my skirt. It looks like clouds. Or...a Rorschach inkblot.

"Ehehe, what do you see Herr Doctor?" Shaking my head ruefully, I head back into the crowd.

The rain starts up again, and I find myself twirling around with a handful of smelly Kine decked in tie dye. The colors seem to be dripping off their clothes, leaving them in pure white garments. I hear the band on stage singing.

"Dance to the music! Dance to the music! Turn the white clothes red! Bleed them out!"

That...doesn't sound like Sly and the Family Stone. I shrug. Well, ya can't argue with a classic. I grab the nearest lily white dancer and pull my arm back to thrust it through his chest when a pair of clawed, calloused hands grasp mine. I let the human go and bring the claws in my line of sight. A ruby red semi dried drop of blood rests along the curve of the dark nail. I dart my tongue out and lick it off. In that tiny drop of blood I'm lost in a cavalcade of memories. Whoever the blood belonged to, I see their past. Their future, blank. Their present, lying under an abandoned truck, hidden behind the tire. Law pulls me from the dancing group as I flip through the thoughts of his deceased prey. "Law, this is...awesome. I can see...all this stuff!"

The tiger laughs. "Looks like your dinner came with a added bonus."

"Hmmm?" I respond, distracted by the flowing lights emitting from the band on stage. Was the stage that tall when I got here? It seems to tower over the throng, the performers on a pedestal. Held high above the undulating crowd.

"Acid, darlin'. You're tripping. One of the hazards of feeding off a hippy."

I try to absorb his words. Acid? That's a...hallucinogen. "A schizophrenic Malkavian on hallucinogens? Oooo..errr." Did I say that out loud? Law wraps his arm around my waist, steadying me as we reconnect with the group.

Shade glances up at our arrival, eyebrow raised questioningly. "Button, button, Madelyns got a button." I say in a sing song tune.

Law chuckles. "Our newbie got her first taste of an acid addled hippy."

Shade nods and responds in his quiet voice. "So did Stell."

Stella giggles waving her hand in front of her slowly. "Sssshade. So quiet, it's worth a million to hear you ssspeak." Her words are so smooth as they slither from her mouth. I watch in amazement until each word grows fangs. They drip with venom and I whimper quietly, ducking behind Law.

He takes my hand reassuringly. "We're gonna have our hands full with you until this is over, aren't we?"

Kat appears from nowhere, startling Stella out of her daze. Stella's gets to her feet in a smooth maneuver that leaves me awed. She hisses gently in the Nosferatu's direction. "Give someone a heads up before you pop in and out of existence, bitch." Kat laughs and grabs Stella around the waist. The two start dancing, and I'm entranced by the effortless way Stella's body moves. The word 'serpentine' appropriately comes to mind. I drift away from Law, captivated and joining the girls in their dance. Stella runs her hand through my hair, flicking her tongue at me seductively.

I hear Kat's giggle, close to my ear, sending a shiver through me. "Trying to corrupt the new recruit already, Stell?" Stella just smiles in response, undulating her body against mine.

Law mumbles from the sidelines, "Good god, you girls are killing me..."

Stella replies, "Mmm, you know there's more than one way to unleash the beast, right ladies?" The three of us pull closer, Kat and Stella sandwiching me between them. Stella surprises me, pressing her oddly rough lips against my own. When the initial shock wears off, I relax, returning the kiss. Her forked tongue flicks against mine in a curious sensation.

Kat bites gently on my ear from behind, whispering, "How 'bout it? Wanna let out your inner monster?" At the sound of the last word, my body stiffens. Unanticipated, I feel a mental tornado touch down in my psyche.

"Monster, my monster." The derisive sound of his voice as he cuts me. Slices me open. His monstrous actions building up a vicious beast inside of me. His monster.

I turn on the mocking creature behind me. Clawing at it's face, I clutch my hands around it's throat. It's when my thumbs start to puncture the windpipe that I'm pulled roughly away. I shriek like a banshee, fighting an iron grip. Kat. Kat? No, I thought.. lays on the ground, holding a hand over her bleeding face and coughing. "What the FUCK is wrong with you?!" She leaps up, coming at me.

The grip on my arms relents for a moment to knock her back. A deep growl of a voice behind me commands, "Shade, hold her back."

The dark skinned man restrains her. Her beautiful visage slips in her anger, revealing the hideous face underneath. "She just attacked me for no reason!"

When the voice behind me speaks again, I recognize it at Law. "She's a Malk, you idiot!" I'm whimpering to myself as he orders the other three back to their shared haven. "Go! Go back the the haven. Get out of here before one of the few sober people here notice what the hell's going on."

Shade retreats briskly, dragging Kat with him. Stella hesitates. "Law, what are you going to do with her? How do you know she's not going to kill you? She's obviously unstable.."

I growl at her words, sensing veiled threats in my twisted mind. "Just go for Christ's sake. Ya'll act like I can't take care of myself." She shakes her head but slinks off. I see all the crowd clearly now. They all smile at me knowingly. They know. They know who am I. They know WHAT I am. I've got to...kill them. If I kill them all they can't hurt me anymore! I strain in Law's clawed grasp. "You stop that." He growls in my ear, pulling me away from the crowd, back in the dark between two empty tents. I feel myself starting to spiral into a frenzy when he grabs my face, pulling it to his. "Madelyn. Look at me! Look in my eyes." He grabs a handful of my hair, halting my frantic escape attempts. "STOP. I don't want to hurt you." I glare into his cat-like eyes, sneering in petulance until Law's voice reaches through.

"Madelyn. Be still. You're safe. Calm yourself. Just listen to my voice and everything will be alright. Safe. Let the frenzy go. Let it go."

The tenor of his words are soothing. I feel the emphasis of each syllable washing over me. And...it starts to work. The beast that pulls the strings inside of me stops it's roaring. My brain seems to halt the screaming hysteria. Law keeps talking as I relax in his hold. How is he doing this? In my relaxation, the voices recede to a dull murmur. When I finally regain significant control of myself, I place my hands on Law's chest, gently pushing him out of the close proximity. "How...did you do that?"

He grins his sharp grin. "Lot's of practice, darlin'. Spent a lot of time with a lot of hot-headed Gangrel. It helps in keeping everyone from tearing each other apart."

I wrap my arms around myself, shaken and embarrassed at my lack of control. "Well I guess I should thank you. So. Thank you." I turn and abruptly start walking away.

"Hey!" He follows after me, grabbing my arm. I pull away with a grimace, observing the brief look of hurt on his face. What does he want? I just want to get out of here before I get myself in another dire situation. "Where are you going? You know sunrise is in about 45 minutes." Damn it. He's right.

"I'll find a place...um...somewhere." I respond back, lamely.

He starts to reach for my hand, but perhaps remembering my rebuff, lets his fall back to his side. "I've got a place nearby. It's safe. You've still got that shit in your system, so there's no telling what you could get into if you're alone."

Before I can stop myself, I ask: "What do you care?"

He studies me for a moment. "Who said I do? Now come on." And I'm following him out of the field of Kine, still oblivious to the monsters in their midst. "Aw, damn. We're gonna miss Hendrix. Of all the luck.." I don't reply. As we walk, I concentrate, perusing his thoughts. His concern in genuine. He doesn't fear me. Isn't sickened by me. I'm so baffled by the purity of his emotions. Pulling back into my own miserable head, we head to his makeshift shelter. We're well unexposed by the time the sun rises. For the first night in awhile my thoughts seem to be near coherent as I fall into my day sleep, and I almost feel safe.


	28. Chapter 28

January of 1970

Six months ago, if someone had asked me if I could ever integrate with my own kind, let alone LIVE with them, I'd think they were crazier than I am. With my first experience with a Kindred being the horrendous fourteen months spent in my maker's clutches, I was half convinced they we're all as wicked as he. I lean against the rough bark of the tree I climbed up. With the surrounding woods and lake, theres no doubt a Gangrel would find this place an appropriate home. Law loves to be in the wilderness. Why he decided to disrupt the peace and tranquility of this place by invited a ticking time bomb Malkavian like myself is beyond me.

After the Woodstock incident, he somehow convinced me to join his small coven of friends. While he was optimistic about the idea, the other three had their misgivings. Understandably as I did try to rip Kat's face off in a drug/hysteria induced hallucination. She understood the situation but still treated me with a detached civility. Stella was still amiable enough. It was nearly impossible to tell how Shade felt about me, as he barely spoke for any extended duration. He warmed up enough to teach me some useful hand to hand combat skills. Although that might of been a tactic to size me up in case he ever need to take me out. Lawrence - Lord, he'd chew a hole through my chest if he heard me call him that - seemed to take a truly confounding liking to me. I could tell I wasn't the only one puzzled by that turn of events. How anyone could tolerate, let alone feel genial towards me...but Law sought out my friendship.

Our little five some lived together for about four months before it became readily apparent how much of a burden my presence was on the other Kindred. Between my viciousness with my kills, my choice in prey and the fact that I have a tendency to slip into dangerous hysterics every now and then, the inevitable happened.

I try not to pry, as easy as it is for me. My senses just happen to be more sharp than even the heightened sense of your average immortal. I could hear Kat and Law arguing inside the house.

"You must be as crazy as she is for bringing her to live here! She's a godamn menace. If she's not tearing up the house she's trying to destroy one of us in one of her delusions!"

I don't need to see Kat's face to know what it looks like, the mask she hides her true visage behind slipping in her agitation.

"And haven't I proven I can take care of that?! She hasn't laid a hand on you since August." Law retorts, his voice taking on the throaty growl that shows itself when he's roused.

I hear Stella pipe up, hesitant. "He does seem to have a fairly strong control on her, Kat.."

"Oh, don't you stick up for that maniac.." Kat interrupts. "You're just as wary of her as I am. That right there is reason enough to toss her out, even Stell can't stand to be around her!"

"For the love of...I never said I couldn't stand to be around her, Kat! Be a spiteful bitch all you want but don't put words into my mouth." Stella spits out angrily.

I hear Law snicker quietly as Kat huffs in indignation. "Y'know what -Lawrence-, we've been friends for a long time. Through thick and thin. This is a real fucking thin time. If she's not out of here...I am."

I don't even need to hear Law's thoughts to know she's hurt him. He's told me plenty of details about their long standing friendship, and I know he wouldn't want to give that up. Ok, no big deal. I'll solve the problem for them. I'll just leave. I surprise myself with the bleakness I feel at that thought. I shake it off as I creep back inside the house to collect my few belongings. Sigh. Guess I should of know this wouldn't last. Not much can last the way I move through life like a human wrecking ball. I sling my bag over my shoulder and retreat to the back door. Although he wasn't there a moment ago, Shade sits in one of the easy chairs, looking at me without expression. Unsure what to say, I shrug and give him a sad half smile before exiting to the front lawn. That was easy enough, right? Impending loneliness creeps up on me, and I push the feeling away irately.

I'm not even at the end of the walkway when I feel Law's presence approaching. So much for easy. I turn to face him, eyebrow raised quizzically.

"Where do you think you're running off to?"

I raise my eyebrow higher, giving him a skeptical look. I attempt a smile. "I'm not dumb, tiger boy."

He sighs. "Sorry ya had to hear that darlin'. Y'know Kat...she's uptight."

"No, Law, she's right. I'm not really well equipped to be anyone's company for a extended amount of time. It's a wonder ya'll put up with me this long."

I start to walk away again and he grabs my shoulder, quickly releasing his grasp when I turn back to him. "Sorry, I know you don't.."

I interrupt him. "It's ok, you can...yeah. It's ok."

"Don't leave, Mad. We can work something out, it'll just take time."

I shake my head. Optimism won't get ya out of this one, boy. "Don't worry about working anything out. I'll just go, it's really not a big deal."

"If it's not a big deal, I'll just...go with you."

My mouth opens, about to shoot down that decidedly foolish idea when Kat's furious voice carries across the lawn. "What?! Are you kidding me? Have you honestly lost your mind, Law?!'

"Kat, stay out of this. You've made your opinion perfectly clear, this doesn't need to turn into a huge fiasco." A fiasco it ends up, and I end up plopping down in the grass as Law and Kat verbally duke it out. More than once, I wonder why I don't just up and leave.

Eventually they both run out of steam as Law heads into the house to grab his possessions. With a vague threat of dismemberment he warns me not to take off. In a last ditch effort to mend fences, he knocks on Kat's closed bedroom door. "Kat, c'mon. At least say bye to me, I don't want to end this on bad terms. C'mon Kitty. Don't be like this."

Stella rolls her eyes derisively. "She can be such a bitch.." To my surprise, Stella pulls me into a hug. "Sorry bout all this. Make sure he keeps in touch." After a moment she smiles warmly at me. "You keep in touch too." I give her a puzzled smile. When Law trudges back into the room she embraces him with a goodbye and well wishes.

Shade gets up from the easy chair and shakes Law's hand. With a steady gaze at me, he tells Law in his quiet baritone: "Take care of that one." Huh. I guess that's a sign of affection? So we depart, and instead of taking off and seeking shelter on my own, I've got a personal Gangrel bodyguard.

I stare up at the moon from my perch, feeling pensive. I glance down to see Law loping towards my tree, back from his hunt. In one of his eerily graceful movements, he climbs up effortlessly to roost on the branch next to me. I already ate, but the residual smell of blood on his breath still entices a stirring in my gut. "Good dinner?"

He licks his claws with a grin. "Probably not as tenderized as yours, but still satisfying." We both laugh before lapsing into companionable silence. Intentionally he breaks the silence. "This tree bark is really chafing my ass..." I dissolve into hearty laughter to the point of almost toppling out of the tree. He scoots closer, putting an arm around my shoulders, steadying me. "Careful darlin' don't laugh yourself into a torpor." When I get my giggles under control he starts to lift his arm from my shoulder. I surprise us both by reaching my hand up to grasp his, preventing it's removal. I can feel his pleased astonishment when I lean into him, idly toying with his dark hair. My acute hearing picks up a rumbling from his chest.

"Are you...purring?"

He scoffs. "Pfft, me? No. You're obviously having a delusion or something..." He chuckles, and the deep sound continues to emanate from him. The sound is oddly comforting, bringing a rare smile of contentment to my face. Oh, dear Maddie. What are you getting yourself into...


	29. Chapter 29

April of 1970

I'm spiraling quickly, trying to get out and away before I lose hold on myself. "Law.." My voice is high pitched, near frantic. It hurts my ears. I hold my head as if trying to hold back the insanity attempting to burst forth from my brain.

Law stands his ground in front of the door. Stubborn! Why is he so hellaciously STUBBORN? "I'm not moving. If you're going to flip out, do it here. I'm not letting you run off and get yourself killed."

In my head, pseudo laughter fills my ears. I sink to my knees, hugging myself. I hear his voice over Law's. The same voice that's been haunting me for the past fifteen years.

Why run, monster?

I can smell his putrid breath as he hisses madness in my brain.

Let the fool try to stop you. Let him hold my monster back. Put him in his place, show him who you belong to!

I growl under my breath. "I don't belong to you. I've NEVER belonged to you!" Oh, god. Why won't this idiot let me out before it's too late!? My hands curl into claws, the nails digging into my arms as I try to hold myself together.

Law speaks in his calm tenor. "Fight through this, I know you can. Whatever you hear, it isn't real." His concern makes me sick. Too late. It's too late. He takes a courageous step towards me, bending down to my level. "C'mon, look at me, darlin'." His words do nothing to satiate me. If anything it infuriates me. A trick, this is all another one of his tricks. A mind game. He won't fool me this time... When I meet his eyes, it's not my friend I see but some ill perceived threat. An immortal sent from my dead sire to finish the job he failed to. I uncurl from my protected ball and crouch on my toes, hands braced on the ground, ready to pounce. The menace in my vision speaks. "Oh, darlin'. You don't want to do this." I lean forward, baring my teeth. "Stop this. Back off, Maddie." His insolent use of my name makes me see red. I snap, and fly at him in a crazed rage.

He catches my wrists before I can strike him. This false ally tries to placate me. I barely hear his voice over my enraged snarling. My maker laughs maliciously. Instigating. Egging the stranger on to attack me.

Time to teach you your lessons, little monster. Someones got to do it. You made sure I couldn't, didn't you?

I scream incoherently, pulling an arm out of his grasp and landing a hard punch to the side of his jaw. It's like hitting stone, and the pain in my hand sets me off even more. Despite the tension, my attacker laughs. "That's a helluva right hook."

I wrench my other hand free. "You're mocking me? I'll tear you apart!"

He moves towards me again and I step sideways, grabbing a heavy vase from the table. I smash it across it face, eliciting a yelp from him. A trickle of dark blood drips from a wound on his temple. I brandish the jagged neck of the vase at him, grinning wickedly. Faster than I can react he slaps the makeshift weapon out of my hand. Spinning me around, he wraps his arms around me, pinning mine behind my back. I fight tooth and nail like a wild animal, attempting to tear the flesh of his stomach with my restrained hands. When I catch his skin, he growls. Panting with the exertion from trying to hold me still, he gasps in my ear: "Mad..don't...make me...lock you in the damn..closet!" The threat of being detained sends me into another wave of hysteria. I slam my head back into his face and wrestle free from him. His lip split, he spits blood on the floor. "God DAMN it! Fine. Is this how it's gotta be? Come on, woman. Let's tango." He holds his arms out as thick, inch long claws sprout from each finger. His fangs seems sharper, his eyes more feral.

This beast may actually be a worthy opponent. He could very well kill me. Instead of being afraid, I hunger for the battle. I shout at him. "Go ahead, let's see it. Take me down!" Crazed laughter surrounds me.

There's my monster.

Almost catching me off guard, he makes the first move. Slashing low, his claws catch me across my chest. Thin lines of blood seep through my shirt. The sight of it provokes me and I fly at him, grappling and gnashing my teeth. I get my fangs deep in his arm, grinding my jaws down until I taste blood. He snarls angrily, ripping his arm from my mouth and heaving me away. I stumble into the coffee table. Feigning weakness, I whimper, letting false fear cross my face. He approaches cautiously, but not cautious enough. I grab his forearms, pushing him against the table. He falls backward, bringing me with him as we smash into the glass top. Rolling through the blood spattered shards, I fight for control. His claws tear at me, giving him the upper hand. Slippery with blood, I manage to squirm out from under him.

Darting into the kitchen, I grab a large knife from the butcher's block and in one fluid movement duck behind the counter. His blood lust brings him in to the room. He sniffs the air for my scent, and before he can pinpoint my location I fling myself onto his back. Grabbing around his neck with one arm, I sink the knife into his side to the hilt. He shrieks like a wildcat and reaches behind him to throw me off his back. I hit the floor hard enough to shatter the tiles. He pulls the knife from his flesh, tossing it aside with a clatter. I swipe my hair out of my face as he pants animalistically. Simultaneously converging on each other again, we brawl for over an hour, tearing each other and the house apart in the process.

My thoughts are churning darkly. The battle is taking it's toll on me mentally as well as physically. I notice him altering his attacks, seeming to block my attempts, rather than injure me. Desperate and deranged, I shriek at him. "No! Don't stop, fight me back! Giving up...why..why do you always give up?" My voice is hysterical. "Why won't you kill me? How can I stop you if I can't kill you? Why won't you...stop...stop." Bloody tears are falling down my cheeks as I howl in frustration.

He drops his arms, straightening out of his predator's stance. "I'm not doing this anymore. Do your worst, darlin'. Let it out. I won't fight ya anymore."

I wipe the blood from my face angrily and accost him, pummeling every inch of him I can reach. The pity on his face conflicts me more. I scream. "Why are you doing this? WHY HAVE YOU DONE THIS TO ME? Just let me go! You've taken everything! Why won't you...he..why won't he..." I look up, finally seeing through the haze of madness. "He won't let me go." My body trembles uncontrollably, my walls threatening to crumble around me. Law puts his hands on my shoulders and when I try to pull away he tightens his arms around me in an embrace. "Please don't...don't...I can't. I'm too dangerous." I'm poison. Don't touch me. Don't touch me. I curl into him and we sink into the carpet. He lets me cry and rave on his shoulder. As my sobs subside, I whisper apologies over and over. To Law. Myself. To the dead. To the people who will never hear it.

He rocks me gently and I hear his voice over my sorrow. "Oh, darlin'. What happened to you?"

I turn my head, unable to handle the sympathetic look on his face. "Please don't ask that. Don't ever ask that."

We stay intertwined in each others arms amongst the wrecked debris of his furnishings until minutes before dawn. He doesn't speak when he lifts me into his arms, carrying me to his light safe bedroom. My face is impassive as he removes my shredded and stained clothing, slipping one of his clean t-shirts over my head. I stand by the bed unconsciously rocking back and forth on my heels as he removes his own clothes for a pair of sweatpants. A hint of weariness crosses his face as he climbs into the bed. Pulling me down next to him, I hesitate for the slightest moment before curling my body around his. He drapes an arm around me protectively when I nuzzle my face into his chest. He falls asleep instantly and after a bit I fight down my racing emotions and drift off.


	30. Chapter 30

Hard at work on a hazy summer night. It's been too long since I've taken the time to REALLY play with someone. The deep set need has been gnawing at me. Especially considering the recent events, it's past due that I had a little me time. Just Maddie and her toys. None of those pesky emotions. Minimal chatter from the choir of voices that normally haunt me. I'm satiating them, after all. Most of them.

My victim, some random guy I happened upon while wandering the streets aimlessly, is securely duct taped to the table. The house we're in has been under construction for awhile, the walls built, but still covered in plastic sheeting. The air is thick and hot. Sweat beads on my victims forehead, slowly dripping into his eye. He blinks, trying to clear his vision so he can keep track of my preparing. It makes him look stupid, and I laugh as I'm setting out my instruments for the evening. The last thing I set out being a pad of paper and a pen. I think for a moment, scribbling on the paper. Meeting my victim's eyes, I smile in anticipation. "This is gonna be a tough one. Twelve letters." His face turns red with the effort it takes to try to speak through the tape I pasted over his mouth. "Ugh. Guess I'll have to take this off if I want you to play properly." I rip the tape off and roll my eyes when he gives a shout of pain. As expected, he starts the ever present begging for his life. Yada yada yada. I wrap my hand around his throat, squeezing just enough to halt his pathetic whining. "LIKE I SAID. Twelve letters. What's your guess?" I release my grip.

"Please, oh god please. Why are you doing this? God please help me!"

He's not paying attention to me! Thoroughly irked, I bring my hand with the pen in it down to his face, holding it a centimeter away from the frantically moving orb of his eye. "Last chance. Make your fucking guess." Maddeningly, he starts to pray. "Oh, this is cute. I've never hear this crap before." My voice drips with sarcasm. "Let me show you how I pray..."

Picking the hand saw up from the table, I hold it up so he can see it. The terror exudes from his very pores, letting off the aroma I love. I lick my lips and bring the saw to his left ankle. I press down just enough to part a few dermal layers. Just enough to start the flow of blood. The sight of it brings everything into place. Oh, nothing can compare to this. Nothing. Nothing. I slowly push the saw back and forth, luxuriating in each stroke of the blade. Skin splits. Muscles and ligaments tear at my will. It takes a bit more effort once I hit the bone, but that makes the job even more satisfying. It isn't until I saw through the last layer of skin connecting his foot to his leg that I even register his agonized shrieks. The foot drops, bouncing on the carpet. Blood pours wastefully out of the stump at the end of his leg. Whoops, get your mind back in the game Maddie. I replace the saw in my hand with an industrial strength iron. Somehow, his shrieks manage to intensify when I press the hot metal against the seeping stump of his leg, cauterizing the wound. The screaming starts to irritate me, and I toss my victim's severed foot at his face. "Shut up! Can't you see I'm helping you, here?!" Some people are SO ungracious. I pull the iron away once the bleeding ceases. His screams are tapering off, his eyelids fluttering. I deliver a hard slap to the side of his face, jarring him away from unconsciousness. "You've still gotta make a guess, ya know." I can't decipher anything from his moans and groans so I shrug. "Kay. Guess you miss another one." I repeat the process on his right arm, from the elbow. Halfway through, the saw, slippery with blood, gets difficult to maneuver. I remedy the situation by carefully licking the weapon clean as my victim shudders and cries. The blood briefly alleviating some of the lust, I continue my work, relieving him of his arm and cauterizing the wound closed. Much to my dismay, he faints from the shock. I pout and kick at the table, hoping he'll reawaken. Fine. I can be patient. Entertain myself while I wait. I pull my Ipod from my bag of toys, taking care not to get blood on it as I flip to a song and sing along.

"Don't you want to know how we keep starting fires? It's my desire, It's my desire. Danger! Danger! High Voltage!"

Oh, how lucky! My phenomenal singing talents must of woken him up! My victim groans, finally coming to. "Welcome back friend!" The sound of my voice starts the futile begging again. It pisses me off, so I take the scalpel from my bag and slice his eyelids off, just for the hell of it. I'm proud of myself, managing not to puncture the eye itself despite his struggling. Even with the cauterization, I know it will be all too soon before my plaything dies from shock so I speed up my process, still trying to get him to guess at least one letter. Just one! That's all I ask! At the end of the game, I throw the scrap of paper I'd been scribbling on. A sketch of a a stick man hanging from the gallows adorns the sheet. I cross my arms, perturbed. "The word was HABERDASHERY! Was that really so hard to guess?!" The only response I get is a low pitched squealing. I look down at my play thing. I amputated each arm at the shoulder, and the legs at the hip. His lidless eyes are rolled back in his head, and he's still trying to scream although I removed his tongue. Huh. I've made a human pillow. I link my hands behind me and serenely watch as his struggles cease. Each beat of the heart becoming more disjointed. And then..."Ah. Time of death.." I look at my watch. "3:29 a.m." I laugh, and the sound reverberates disturbingly in the empty room. Then, over my laughter, I hear another sound.

Slow, purposeful clapping. My laughter cuts off as if I'd been gagged. I turn around, resigned. Of course. Why am I not surprised. These two aspects of my life are so very interconnected.

My maker, leaning against a sawhorse, clapping long fingered hands together. "Bravo, monster! You are an artist after my own heart."

Fighting the hysteria that is just on the edge of stampeding through my mind, I reply. "You're not really here?" The quizzical tone in my voice makes me cringe. Stop. Be strong. You beat him once...

He stops his clapping, and places his hands on his thighs, leaning forward. In a whispered tone, "Does that really matter? I'm here, I'm there. Burned and dead, or here in your head. Either way you're listening, aren't you?" I want to say no. I want to turn around and run. How can a delusion still have such a hold on me? "Because you have always, and will always be mine, monster." I open my mouth to respond, but all the gallantry runs from me. Glancing back at my limbless play mate, I frown. Isn't this supposed to make it better? Make him...shut up? Why am I still so... I whimper out loud, and wrap my arms around myself. The specter of my maker smiles, knowing he's conquered me once again.

He walks toward me, and I shuffle a few inches back. Holding up a hand, a warning, he catches my gaze and wills me to be still. I accede, holding myself tighter and watching him as he slowly circles me. My face is a mask of grief and dismay. I though I was...strong. He stops his circling to lift my chin. "And who told you that, monster?" I listlessly try to pull my face away. His grip tightens. Fingernails digging into my skin, drawing blood. "This is all you know. This is all you can understand." Again, I try to respond. Instead of a snappy retort, I sob aloud. Please can't you just leave me alone. I'm trying. Trying to be...something. Someone. He releases his grip on my chin and continues his pacing. Circling me. Circling as he licks my blood from his fingertips. Circling his prey. "That's right. My prey. You still know your place." My place. He still manages to beat me down, even barely laying a hand on me. "Isn't it easier when you're mine? My ways are simple. Cut.." He smirks. "..and dry. You always know where you stand, how to react, how to behave. None of these, what do you call them? Pesky emotions?" But..I..want to feel. My brow creases in confusion to my own thoughts. I want to feel? He stops in front of me again. "No, monster. You don't." He unwraps my arms from around myself, placing them at my sides. Taking my face in between his hands, he forces my head up. And...as expected...I meet his eyes. He almost looks...concerned? "Concerned?" He laughs. "I'm only trying to protect my property."

I finally manage to speak. "Protect me? From what?" From who?

Hands on my cheeks, his thumb gently caresses my lips. "Look, monster." A harsh bolt of agony strikes through my brain. Images flip through too fast to comprehend. All I feel is the pain. Pain pain pain. "Shh...shhhh.."

I hear his voice over my own shriek. "What...what is that?" My voice is thick with the threat of tears.

"Things to come. You've opened yourself to a whole new sort of pain, monster."

My hands flutter at my sides, before reaching up to clasp my maker's against my face. "I DON'T UNDERSTAND!"

A flash of irritation crosses his face. He always hated when I shouted at him. I brace for the inevitable violence. What I understand, right? It doesn't come. Instead he shakes his head dispirited. "I'll give you a favorable option, monster. Stay. Stay in here, with me. Stay with what you understand. The simplicity of torture and fear. I'll only hurt you in ways you comprehend."

In my last ditch effort of courage, I reply. "Never. Never. I've made a life here. I'm going to put together the pieces you shattered. LET. ME. GO."

My maker's hands slowly drop from my face. He backs up a few steps, an unfathomable look on his face. "Poor Madelyn. You think you've felt pain? The best is yet to come." He places a hand over his heart, shaking his head at me. I squeeze me eyes shut, confounded.

When I reopen them he's gone. It's just me. Oh. And my...play..thing. I look at the mess on the table and feel an unwarranted disgust. I shake my head, trying to jog my mind into it's normal state. With a sigh, I start cleaning up. The gruesome joy I felt when I was playing is extinguished. Now...I don't know what I feel. Pulled in about ninety directions, none of which are fully conceivable. Before I exit the shell of a house, I hear my maker's voice whisper through my thoughts. A storm is coming. "Shut up." I mumble, half heartedly. I make my way home. I'm just stepping onto the porch when the sky opens up without warning. From the shelter of the awning, I turn around to stare into the downpour. This. This isn't what he meant. I rub my face vigorously, returning my gaze to the front door. A storm... I force my lips into a smile, hoping it doesn't look as much like a grimace as it feels, and let myself into the house.


	31. Chapter 31

A breeze picks up, cooling the stifling hot air a fractional amount. The young brunette woman in my arms is slowly ceasing her struggling as I drain her of vitae. The smell of ozone, signaling the impending storm reaches my senses even over the scent of blood. After a few moments, I drop the depleted corpse, nudging it under a pile of debris with my boot. I wipe my lips and peer down as my clothes. Didn't even need a bib. So it IS possible for me to eat without making a mess. I step out from the alley. The wind flutters my dress around my legs and sends my hair flying over my shoulder in a candy colored fan. Despite a filling meal and the optimistic expectations of a night at Elysium, a somber look remains on my face as I watch the sky for streaks of lightning. Aside from the recent unexplained anxiety, the knowledge of an upcoming event weighs on my mind. I'd be 67 this Tuesday.

Memories of a sunny and hot day in July. Balloons and banners adorn the gazebo. Sweet sixteen. Mom and Dad chat away with some of the neighbors. My small cluster of friends gathered in the yard, cavorting with the dogs or playing croquet. Sweet icing on the chocolate cake Mom made for me.

I snap myself out of my reminiscing. Stop dwelling on the dead. I frown. It's hard not to dwell when I should be a senior citizen enjoying retirement and grandchildren but instead, I'm this immortally fucked up hurricane of derangement and insanity. I continue my moping until fat raindrops start falling, darkening the warm pavement. My feet move of their own accord, leading me to the club as my mind wanders.

I greet the familiar Kindred, my smile fluctuating between friendly and menacing, depending who I'm directing it toward. I meet a few new faces, fulfilling my Harpy duties in Notte's stead. One of the new faces belongs to one of my own clan. It's about time Malkavians start rearing their heads again. Here's hoping their heads stay on their bodies... When my new Malk introduces himself as Taco, a snippet of song flickers through my thoughts. Taco taco, burrito burrito...Taco flavored kisses... I shake my head. What IS it with this place? Another Malkavian is rumored to be wandering around, but no other kooks introduce themselves to me. Feeling slighted, it's probably a good thing he hasn't approached me. The higher ups are so intolerant of unprovoked violence. The former Harpy Lucita, fresh from a vacation, and really just fresh all around, congratulates me on my ascending to assistant harpy. At some point the Tommy the priest meets up with me, and to my bewilderment offers me an invite to a upcoming gathering at his new church and a ziploc bag of cocaine. I accept both offers, the latter of which I take to conceal the fact that I'm actually taken aback by his proposition. I shove the baggie in my boot. If anything, it'll make an interesting conversation starter with someone.

I finally meet the acquaintance of the warrior-esque Gangrel who joined in the attack against Tybalt. Tattooed, battle scarred and imposing, she introduces herself as Munin. Despite her stoic demeanor, I find myself feeling fond of the Viking. The standoffish Gangrel that's been creeping around Elysium lately finally makes himself know as Magnus. I greet him with trepidation, never trusting the handful of Kindred who keep to the shadows, thinking their observing goes by unseen. But, seeing as he's been Deputized, Mongrel must see something trustworthy in him. My Mongrel doesn't always place his trust in the best places. Spotting his badge glinting under the flashing lights of the club, I peer into the corner where Mongrel is deep in conversation with Pyotr and E. He glances up, yellow eyes meeting mine with a brief smile of salutation. Then again, he also places trust in a unstable Malkavian, so who am I to judge? I smile back, hoping it looks believable despite the perplexing whispers that start up at the sight of his company. When Mongrel returns his attention to the Regent and Seneschal I let the smile fall from my face. I flinch, rubbing at my temples in response to the incomprehensible voices. Please stop. I don't understand what you're saying! The only reply I get is a wave of worry, warning and confusion. I curl up in a chair by one of the tables, pulling my knees to my chest and resting my head on them as I try to quell the voices. What's the point of heightened intuition and insight if I can't even figure out what it's trying to tell me? I feel the nearness of someones presence and sigh. I don't plan on acknowledging the being until I get a curious sense of recognizable peculiarity from this new arrival. I lift my head, taking in the sight of a brightly smiling redhead. His fiery hair enhanced by a matching baggy coat. As I stare, a small coral snake slithers over his collar, relocating from one shoulder the other. I cock my head to the side in silent curiosity as a smile inexplicably pulls at the corners of my mouth. Yet ANOTHER Malkavian?

I let the redhead speak first, his voice whimsical and pleasant. "You must be Madelyn! Mongrel's told me about you, I'm Simon. And this..." He tenderly strokes the snake under it's mouth. "..is Ophelia." At the mention of his name, I put my guard down a fraction, remembering a few conversations Mongrel and I had about his old friend.

I let him whisper to his snake for a moment before responding. "Does the snake ever talk back?"

He grins widely, my cheeks hurt just looking at him. "All the time. Ophelia and I are the best of friends."

"If only the things that talk to me could be more friendly.." I say, somewhat forlornly. Simon and I make small talk, while my inner cacophony shriek the usual warnings of befriending another Kindred. I feel amenable towards the redheaded Malkavian, despite some of the glaring differences in our natures.

I'm forced to part ways with my new companion when I notice the flickering of an altercation stirring on the other side of the club. Quickly learning of potential shadiness involving a Kindred Atticus, and said shadiness affecting Mongrel, battle lust takes a hearty leap forward through my psyche. I'm perturbed when Mongrel thwarts my efforts to bite the face off of the trouble making Gangrel. Politics ruin all my fun. I think, with a pout, watching Mongrel head to the roof to make a call to Pyotr. I follow, watching his back and non-chalantly eavesdropping on his side of the conversation. My interest wanes when I realize blood shed probably isn't in the cards, only to be piqued again when my own cell phone goes off alerting me to a text message. I'm at the club, where the fuck are you? I grin when I realize it's Fate. Before I can respond I receive another text. Get the hell down here, poser! I'm bored! Despite the fact that trouble usually follows when two undead teens with a taste for chaos get together, I shrug and head back into the main area. Why not stir up a bit of trouble. It is almost my birthday after all. I meet up with the smirking Lasombra. "Took you long enough. Maybe you would of moved a little faster if I said Hot Topic was having a sale."

I sneer in response. "Yeah and where have YOU been lately? Too busy writing fan fiction about Benji and Joel Madden?" We both laugh, oblivious to the disconcerting stares the fellow vampires give us. Pondering what commotion we can start, I off handedly mention the baggie of cocaine residing in my boot.

Fate's dark eyes shine with mischief. "Let's do it!"

I mull it over, remembering the few times I imbibed in intoxicating substances. Mongrel's disapproval flashes through my thoughts and I wave my hand in indignation. I behave myself more often than he realizes. I think it's about time Madelyn acts out a little. I pull the baggie out and Fate grins. Realizing consuming the drugs out right won't have any effect on my system, she decides to take some first, then let me drink from her. "Alriiight. Don't get mad if I eat you, though."

She snorts a couple lines of the white powder and scoffs. "I'll backhand you with my shadow arms if you get out of control." When she lifts her head, her pupils have dilated and she practically crackles with energy. Ooh, ooh! It's my turn! Fate tilts her head to the side and I sink my teeth into my friend. When her blood hits my throat it's like a firework exploding in the night sky. Fucking-a! The Lasombra's eyes are slitted, lost in her own sensations. She wouldn't even notice if I just...mmm...fuck. With more than a little reluctance I extract my fangs from her throat.

For a moment everything slows down to a crawl. The music is low and churning a thick beat that reverberates in my ears. The lights sweep along the walls leisurely. Then, like someone pressed fast forward on a VCR, everything rushes back to speed and I'm overwhelmed by the onslaught of sights, sounds, smells. Smells! SMELLS! I meet Fate's eyes and know she's sharing this amazing rush. I throw my head back and bellow mad laughter. She bounces on her toes, grinning. "I knew this would be a great idea!"

Vibrating with anticipation, I feel like I'm on the edge of combustion. FUCK! I've gotta GET INTO SOMETHING! "C'mon, let's find somebody to fuck with!" Almost immediately we hone our attention to a mortal watching the dancers from the top floor railing. Accosting the girl, learning her name is Katie, Fate questions her while I stalk the human in a small circle. Twining in and out of her thoughts, not really absorbing any information, I catch the scent of Kindred on her. Hmm, must be someones ghoul. Breathing deeply, I bite my lip and fight the urge to take a bite or two or twenty. With a whoop of laughter, Katie's being dangled over the dance floor. Supported only by Fate's shadows. She looks over at me, eyebrow raised in silent inquiry and I nod frantically at the Lasombra. "Drop her! Drop her!" I squeal, clapping my hands in excitement. Fate turns her wicked smile back to the suspended human and pull her shadows back into herself. We rush over to watch Katie fall, frowning in disappointment when the Kine lands on her feet, only slightly unsteady. I snarl, "My turn." and dart down the stairs, confronting Katie amongst the throng of onlookers. I put on my most charming smile as I retain her attention and delve into her mind. Pulling and tweaking, I twist her emotions into a snarl before turning the intangible knob in her brain and bringing it all to a fever pitch. I pull out of her thoughts, about to sit back and watch the show when I'm distracted by lovely Lucita. Following her around the dance floor, I relish her anxiety as I stalk her, a hungry smile on my face. Just as soon, the smile is wiped from my face when I see E. with her hands on Fate's shoulders, looking thoroughly pissed. Oh. Fuck! She looks up, directing her anger at me and I dodge around a few vampires, hiding behind a mountainous dark skinned Kindred. I smile up at him nervously and when E. approaches he turns to her, giving me enough cover to make another dash for freedom. Eventually, even with the large Kindred's assistance, she corners me. "Cocaine!? You two did COCAINE? What were you THINKING?!" Despite the severity of the situation, I chuckle under my breath as she berates me. Catching my snicker, she sticks her finger in my face. "You're a TERRIBLE babysitter!" Mmm...babies? Where are the babies? "Come with me." She snarls at me and I follow, twitching the whole time.

A vile murmuring starts up in my head as I await the consequences to my actions. Trouble...trouble..you're in trouble...they're going to kill you... I rub my face vigorously. Come ON! Gimme a fucking break! Abruptly, a brawny Kine confronts me. Stepping closer than most immortals, let alone a human would do, he yells in my face. "You gave drugs to the REGENT'S DAUGHTER?!"

Boy I'm getting real tired of people SCREAMING at me. I reply to him, acid in my voice. "I didn't GIVE her anything. She took some drugs, I took some drugs and now everyones screaming in my FUCKING face!" I turn to run off again and suddenly theres a gun in my face.

"Sit the fuck down."

Is this guy fucking kidding me? I oughta rip his fucking throat out! Wait...no...wait wait. CONTROL yourself, Maddie. Isn't this why you're in this situation to begin with? But a gun? REALLY? I could pull his arms off before he even pulls the trigger. BUT I SHOULDN'T. Why not though? Mongrel. Fuck! He isn't here! Like he won't BE HERE? "STOP YELLING DAMN IT!" The ghoul looks at me, impassive.

The large Kindred that was aiding me earlier raises an eyebrow. "You ok?"

I squirm and clutch my head. "No no, not so much. I think...I think I need...where's..." How am I supposed to hear myself think with everyone in here? JUST WAIT IT'LL ONLY GET WORSE. "I DON'T NEED YOUR INPUT!" I bounce on my heels, curled up in the corner. Fuck this. I'll just pull the motherfuckers brain apart. Who cares of he flips out and starts shooting everyone? My lips twist into a smile as I meet the gun brandisher's gaze, I'm just about to shove a intangible fist through the guys brain when the oncoming scent of cloves distract me from my plans. Of course. Just when it's about to get REALLY fun.

I hear Mongrel's voice, irate as he queries the ghoul. His words are drowned out in the din. Too many voices, too many fucking VOICES. You know what would help? Shredding someone. I glance past Mongrel and the douche with the gun. All those mortals. Why would we allow them in if I'm not allowed to pick a couple of them off? I don't even realize I'm growling like hungry dog. I feel Mongrel approach me, his hand on my head, soothing me. But, it doesn't soothe. "Maddie, I'm going take you home."

I'm tense, agitated as my eyes focus on him, then tick back to the crowd. "I don't want to go home." I want to kill someone. Destroy someone until it quiets down in here.

His face is resigned. "You're in a lot of trouble, and you're high as a kite. I need to get you home."

Why does he always do this? Can't I make my own decisions? I'll just run from him. No, he'll catch me. I can't run anyway. JUST LET ME GO. Does he understand I need to...what do I need to do? Why does he have to take me away? 'Cause he cares. DOES HE? DOES HE? Oh, shut up! I shake my head back and forth, trying to shut everything up. I look back up at Mongrel, about to thank him for saving my skin again, about to acquiesce and go home. Until. "No." He almost looks shocked. "I'm not going anywhere." Why am I acting like this?

The next hour goes by in a blur. Mongrel somehow gets me home, literally kicking and screaming. My attempts to escape are thwarted by his newly superior speed. Fucking...this fucking CELERITY bullshit! NO FUCKING WONDER NOBODY WANTS ME TO LEARN IT. My hysteria reaches a new height when he pulls industrial strength cables from the closet. What the hell? WHEN DID HE GET THESE? "No! You're not going to...NO! GET OFF ME!"

In another burst of speed, he's strapping my arms to the bed. "Please, Maddie! Just...please calm down! I'm doing this for your own good."

He's doing this for HIS own good. Stop it stop it. Why do you think he got them in the first place? This was his plan. STOP IT. He's just like everyone else..

Mongrel's voice reaches me through my frantic thoughts. "Maddie you know I care about you..." No he doesn't NO HE DOESN'T. "...you're safe..." I'm never safe! "...please...Maddie...it's...you're.." and his voice is lost to me.

The cold steel of the cables wrapped around me, I'm back there. Please oh god not this. ANYTHING ANYTHING don't.."Please don't do this to me!" I beg with whoever it is that put me here. Mongrel. It's Mongrel. He did this to you! "Please, Mongrel! DON'T LEAVE ME! PLEASE!" I'm screaming until my throat is raw and then the time slips.

I don't know how long it's been. The last traces of the cocaine are out of my system, I'm only aware of that by the gradual normalizing of time. Still restrained to the bed, I'm hysterical, terrified. I can't figure out what's real and what isn't. Why I'm here. How I got here. I just know I need to get out before...before this. I see him standing at the foot of the bed. "What took you so long? Isn't this your favorite?"

My maker smiles at me, and wags his finger like I'm a bad puppy. "Didn't I tell you, monster? Warn you? So, it starts doesn't it? How'd you get here, hmm?" I...I was...and Mongrel put me here. My brow furrows. "He did. Because he cares about you, doesn't he? Has your best interests at heart? Because he LOVES you. Am I right, monster?"

I can't stand the mocking tone of his voice but the fight is gone from me. You can't argue because you know I'm right. "Stop it! Get out of my head!" My maker sows discord throughout my mind for the rest of the night. I can't even argue his point of view. Because I know he's right. No, that's not...he's not right. I can't...figure out...what's right. His words seep through my consciousness no matter how much I scream. Even as I struggle to extract myself from the restraints, I hear him. Even when I wrench my shoulder, painfully dislocating it from the socket, my wail of pain doesn't drown out his words. I lay on the bed, face sticky with coppery tears, my arm throbbing.

"If you even think for a moment you can keep this together...do you really think he can keep you together? Poor, sorry little monster." I don't want to hear anymore!" "What do you think is going to happen? Happy ever after? Monster and her broody lover? All your little undead allies? Your...friends?" He laughs heartily as I weep.

"You've already ruined me enough, why can't you let me go?"

"I'm the only one you have who will NEVER let you go, my monster. Mine. You are mine." In my exhausted state of mind, his voice finally starts to fade. He's done what he came to do, though. I can't even...why can't he just torture me like he used to? Why is he trying to fill my head with these...doubts and...lies...warnings...worries. Then sun must be rising. It's a struggle to keep my eyelids open. My right arm still aches, the torn muscles unable to heal properly from their displaced position. If I fall asleep it'll just get worse. The blood tears on my face are mostly dried, save for two moist streaks on ear cheek where the stray tear keeps escaping. The nightmares...and... Somewhere beyond my bed and the light proof window, the morning begins. Against my will, but mercifully...I drift off.


	32. Chapter 32

July 1954

Happy Birthday to me. Happy Birthday to me. Happy... I sob aloud, turning my face into the dirty pillow. I'm seventeen today. How I can remember something as trivial as my birthday given my situation? I attempt to lift my hand from the mattress to wipe away the tears that seem to constantly pour from my eyes. The chain rattles on the bed frame, halting my hands progress, the rusted metal digging into my wrist. I cry out, pulling on the restraints fruitlessly. My only achievement being the splitting of the scabs that lingered under the cuffs. Please, please. I struggle for several moments until I hear the warning sound of his arrival for the night. I still my movements immediately. Maybe. Maybe if I behave myself...he'll go easy on me tonight. Such barren wishes.

He drops a canvas bag on the floor. Something in the heavy thump of it's landing send a chill through me. The beast smiles at me like I'm a prized possession. I am, after all. Aren't, I? "It's a special day, isn't it my precious?"

I swallow and meet his steely gaze. "Is...is it?"

He reaches into his pocket, extracting the manacles key. Sitting on the mattress next to me, he runs the back of his hand across my cheek. The gesture is almost affectionate but I have to fight the urge to shrink away from his touch. He'd punish me if I did. Speaking as he unlocks my wrists from their restraints, "Punish you? Is that what you think I do?" He shakes his head in mock disbelief. When I'm released, he walks back to the bag on the floor. I watch as he pulls more heavy chain from the bag. He loops them through a ring installed in the ceiling, two metal clips hanging from the ends. Oh no, oh no what does he have planned? Once the contraption is rigged, he points a long finger at me. "Do you want to see your birthday present?"

I shudder and respond in a small voice. "N-n-no. I'm...I...please don't hurt me." He grins, sharp teeth glinting. From the bottom of the bag he pulls out my...present.

The handle looks like highly polished mahogany. Hanging from the handle...Oh my god...nine, thin steel cords. The whips ends slither and sway with every movement of the hand that holds it. I panic, cowering back against the wall, pulling my knees to my chest. He levels his gaze at me. "Now now, monster. None of that. Come to me like a good pet." When I don't abide, he sets the whip on the table with a huff. Now standing at the bed, he holds his hand out to me. "Come to me. Now."

"No!" I spit out at him. When he tries to grab my arms, I throw my foot out, landing a kick to his stomach. Now the rage rises in him. He yanks me up by the collar of my shirt and heaves me across the room, where I land in a heap under the chains. When I scramble to get up, he's on me in an instant. He pins my arms to my sides and slams me over the table. Bent over, face scraping against the wood, I struggle in his grasp. He lifts my arms above my head, snapping them into metal cuffs. I grunt and continue to fight the losing battle with him. He toys with me, letting me put up a fight, before he grasps both my shoulders and growls against the back of my neck. "As much I love when you try to fight me...mmm...we have work to be done." He lifts me from the table, dragging me to the middle of the room and clipping my hands to the chains. Then, he has the whip in his hand, teasing me with it. Running the cords along my prone figure. "You're so beautiful when you're helpless. I only hope you can enjoy this as much as I will." He steps around me, out of my line of sight.

"Please!" I beg. "Don't, please don't!" I thrash as much as I can, knowing either way I'm going to be punished and hurt. The chains jangle on their hook above my head. My hands and arms already going numb from their suspended position. He laughs from behind me. I feel his arms come around my body, the whip in between his hands. He holds it in front of my eyes.

"Shush now, monster!" Lowering his hands, he presses the whips flush against my throat. Pulling it just tight enough to silence my begging, he whispers, breath hot in my ear. "They'll be enough time for screaming and begging later." He removes the cold cables from my neck once my whimpering ceases.

I let out one more pathetic "...please...", knowing it was useless.

He wraps a hank of my hair around his fist, pulling my suspended body against his own. "You don't want to provoke me so early in the night..." I feel the evidence of his excitement pressing into me. It's only my unadulterated repulsion that persuades me to be silent. "Mmm, pity." I hear the smirk in his voice as he pulls away, releasing my hair. "Now. Seventeen. You turned sweet seventeen today. So we'll have one for each year, and if you're good, another for luck." Maybe by some chance it won't be...that bad. I think to myself hopelessly. I hear the metallic slithering of the cords, envisioning how he's gently stroking the whip before...

CRACK. The steel bites across the small of my back. The pain is red, hot and caustic. I choke down the cry that threatens to escape my mouth. He pauses, perhaps waiting to see if I'll relent this early. Then, CRACK. He hits me again, harder this time. I grit my teeth, well aware that this whip can cleave my flesh, knowing he's just toying with me. I feel the third strike, across my shoulders as it breaks the skin. The next three land on my buttocks, each tearing my skin further. The blood is tickling it's way down the backs of my thighs. I've still managed to hold in my cries, although not the tears that course their way down my face. The beast steps around in front of me, his face is speckled lightly with ruby droplets. His grey, depthless eyes are alight with enthusiasm and arousal as he studies my face. "Look at you, precious monster. So very brave." The whip dangles from his hand. It's coated in my blood. While I watch, he brings it up to his face, licking my life fluid from the steel cords with relish. I hold my composure, meeting his eyes in silence. "I should of figured it would take a bit more effort to break you." He says with an evil smile. Without warning, he thrashes the whip sidearm, across my chest. I gasp and drop my head, watching as my blood seeps through the split in my shirt. Hold it in, Maddie. You're stronger than him. I hear him chuckle quietly and return to his position behind me. "Ten more, my pet. And the one for...good luck." The whip lands another five times, each strike cutting deeper. Still, somehow, I've managed to not make a sound. I know from the ascending intensity of each blow that he's losing his temper. What's the worst he can do? Kill me? My thoughts are more bitter and stinging than the whip.

I hear him set the weapon down and he's at my back, gently stroking the open wounds. "You don't have to hold back, monster. Not tonight." His lips graze my neck as he speaks. He's disappointed I haven't caved in yet. He thinks it's a game. "I want you to scream for me. You know you want to give me what I want."

I feel a fiery rage rising in me. I'm not...NOT his little toy. I'm not... Unwisely, I speak. Taunting him. "Maybe, you're losing your touch." I force my lips into a smirk.

The atmosphere in the room seems to grow thick with his anger. He digs his fingers into one of the gashes in my back. "Losing my touch? Losing my touch, eh?!" With a snarl he grabs my throat. Kicking my legs apart, he forces his hand between my thighs. "Why don't I SHOW you how much I'm losing my touch?" He hisses in my ear. "How about if I take you right here?! How about I FUCK you while you're hanging here like a piece of meat?! What's a little more blood? Will you scream then, monster? WILL YOU SCREAM?!" He shrieks the last words at me, both hands vise like on my body. I'm trembling, sweat and tears rolling down my face as I silently await his next move. Abruptly he releases me and picks the whip back up. The last blows are vicious, flaying my flesh open. I can hear him panting with the exertion of each hit. Obliging to his expectations...I scream. I scream, sure that the next strike will kill me. Then the next. Over and over until I receive each of my birthday lashings. My back feels like one enormous open wound. My throat is raw. The beast steps away from me for several moments. Or hours. I can't tell.

The screams have tapered to a steady wailing. Now he stands in front of me. Any anger he retained is gone from his face. "Do you know why I do this to you, my pet?" Because you're a sick, sadistic bastard. He slaps me across the face, my head rocks to the side form the impact. "Stop trying to provoke me again." He taps my forehead with his finger. A small trickle of blood wells on my lip. He leans forward, placing his mouth on mine, sucking my bottom lip into his mouth. In a repulsive, macabre way...there is tenderness in the kiss. He unlocks the shackles from above my head, wrapping his arms around me so I don't fall. His hands graze my wounds and I howl in pain. "Shush now, monster." I try to contain my cries as he sets me in a chair. He spends the next half hour cleaning the gashes in my skin with a remarkable gentleness. As he patches each one, he whispers to me in a soothing voice. His words...threats...promises, they flow through my thoughts somehow bringing comfort. Once or twice he asks again, "Do you know why I do this to you?" He slips a clean, soft shirt over my head and walks me to my mattress. "You'll have to lay on your side, it will irritate your injuries less." I comply, and climb onto the bed, whimpering through the sharp pain spiraling through my body. He squats down next to the bed, meeting my eyes and taking my hand. "Do you know why I do this to you? Do you, Madelyn?"

I swallow and nod against the pillow. Gazing into his gray eyes, I whisper to him. "Yes, I do." He sets his chin on my hand, waiting for my answer. "B-because I belong to you. I'm...yours." The fabric under my head is already damp with tears. I'm his. Oh, god...I'm really his.

His smile is genuine. Leaning forward, he presses his lips to mine again, and I respond in kind. Rising to his feet, he crosses the room. Before walking out the door, he turns, a sickening look of adoration on his face. "Sweet dreams, monster. My monster. My Madelyn." And the door slams shut.


	33. Chapter 33

October 31, 1970

Sitting cross legged on the porch, I'm poring over a novel when I sense Law standing behind me. I continue reading, getting a couple pages out of the way when he speaks, bemused. "Sometimes you really surprise me."

I mark my page and set the book down in front of me. "Elaborate?" He comes to stand at my side, looking down on me with his fangy smile. Pointing to the book, which just happens to be Little Women by Louisa May Alcott. I shoot him a cocky look, on the defense. "Got an issue with my taste in literature, tiger?"

His striped tail twitches as he laughs. "Just seems a little tame for a um...for you."

I huff, feigning annoyance, and grab his tail, using it as leverage to lift myself up. He yelps, but can't hide his smile. I pick my book up and hold it to my chest. "Little Women is a classic, for your information."

He shakes his head. "Sure, sure...Malkavians." He mumbles under his breath. "Anyway. I noticed you haven't set off for supper yet..." I look at him, eyebrow raised. "Care to double team?"

Hunting with another vampire? Heh, don't see that figuring out too well. "Dunno about that. I'm...not very good at sharing."

"Oh, trust me darlin', I've noticed. I'm sure we could find enough of a Kine accumulation so that your selfish ways won't be hindered. It is All Hallow's Eve, after all." Halloween. Oh, my. I forgot all about that. All the kiddies will be out trick or treating. My mouth practically waters at the prospect. Law must notice my look of longing, and gives me a smug look. "Mmhmm, knew that would spark your interest." Swinging the car keys around his finger, he gestures to his prized forest green Chevelle. "Onward undead soldier!" I can't help but laugh as I climb into the ostentatious machine.

I practically leaped from the car as we drove through the surrounding neighborhoods. Masked and costumed children paraded every sidewalk. Oh, all the little innocent ones. S'like a buffet! My fingers were on the door handle when Law clamped a clawed hand over my own. "Compromise with me, darlin'. No kids tonight. I know they're your.." He makes a face. "...favorite, but let's find someone at least out of grade school." I growl at him, quietly. When I make a nonchalant attempt to remove my hand from under his, he tightens his grip and shoots me a look. He may be stronger than me but is he faster? Maybe I could hop out and get my teeth into one or two before he.. "Give it up, Mad. You know I'll take ya down, and I'd rather not have to cause a scene in front of the trick or treaters."

The tension in the car is thick for a moment while I try to quell my own beast. I let my hand drop from the door handle and settle back into the seat. "Do you realize how close you come to evisceration on a nightly basis?"

He pats my hand. "Well aware, darlin'." I huff and sulk as I look out the window at all the delicious treats I must abstain from. Catching a stray thought from Law ..lord she's cute when she pouts.. I shake my head an infinitesimal amount. Something seriously wrong with that boy.

An hour later we're in the more urban part of town. The Kine on the street are predominately adult, haunting the various bars and taverns. He pulls in front of a nondescript building, set apart from the more bustling storefronts. A lone, rusted sign advertises the bar as Emerald's. Hopping out of the car, he comes around to the passenger side when he notices I'm still immobile. I glance at him skeptically. "Gosh, Lawrence. This is certainly a kickin' joint."

He bares his teeth at me in a smile. "Hmm...yeah not many people come here. Just a handful, or so."

I reach out with my mind, getting a feel of the activity inside the building. Half a dozen Kine in various states of inebriation. Plus the bartender. Oh! My eyes light up when I realize his scheme. "Law...you scoundrel. Do you mean to say that I'm...um..that WE are going to clear the entire establishment?"

"Glad you caught on, darlin'." He holds his hand out to assist my exit from the car, claws already sprouting from his fingers. I lift myself out of the seat, ignoring his assistance, but intertwine my fingers with his once I close the door. His face reflects the usual pleased surprise he shows whenever I reciprocate his affectionate gestures. As we walk into the gloom of the bar, thoughts of affection are replaced with the thrill of blood lust. I'm pondering who I want to take down first when Law tosses his head back in a ferocious roar of hunger. I turn to him in amazement. And here I thought I was the beast in this party. His eyes gleam red as he grins and leaps across a table, landing in between the couple whose faces are frozen in shock. As soon as his teeth break skin, the smell of blood hits me and I'm on my own course. I stalk towards the pool table, picking one of the cues up as I approach the two brawny men who brandish theirs at me. Throwing it like a javelin, I impale one of the men through the stomach. While the speared one moans and gurgles, I swat the cue out of the others hands and rip into him, tearing a chunk of flesh from his throat. The hot, ruby liquid sprays out like a fountain, soaking me before I latch onto him like a leech. As his heart slows I see a female trying to make it to the back door. I throw the partially drained body from me and take after her, getting a hold on her as she tries to slip past the jukebox. The Guess Who is cut of mid note when I smash her head through the front. I'm humming American Woman as I gut her with a shard of glass, before burying my fangs in my throat. I drop her body, and it hits the ground with a sick thump. There's still a heart beating in here! Of course. The bartender! My senses tell me he's currently cowering behind the bar. I make my way towards his hiding spot when I catch Law progressing in the same direction. I immediately assume a predatory crouch, snarling like a possessive dog. He grins at me, fangs colored red with blood. With a little bow he gestures me forward, his voice is a growl when he speaks. "Be my guest, darlin'."

Taking a seat on a nearby stool, he sets his eyes on me and waits for me to make my move. His attentiveness spurs me to put on a little show. I wrench the pool stick from the stomach of the now dead biker and vault onto the bar top. Still humming to myself, I walk down the wood, kicking glasses and bowls over, listening to the crashes. When I up end the napkin holder, it lands with a soft thump, rather than a crash. I smile wickedly, crouching down to peek under the bar. "Foooound you!" The bartender screams and I take advantage of his open mouth and jam the pool stick into it, giggling when it rips through the back of his skull, shattering a bottle of brandy. I lift the stick and his convulsing body and flop it onto the back counter, shattering more bottles before I bite into the bartenders thigh, tearing open his femoral artery in another gush of blood.

Briefly forgetting my audience, I stretch, eyes closed, and let out a contented sigh. Licking my fingers clean, I pull my blood soaked hair off my neck. I feel a whisper of movement behind me and tense up. I open my eyes and in the bar back's mirror I see Law at my back. His yellow eyes gleam with a different sort of hunger. He takes my hair out of my grasp and sweeps it over my shoulder. I watch as he lowers his face to the crook of my neck. The rasp of his tongue sends shivers down my spine. I focus on his reflection as he methodically licks the vitae from my shoulder, my neck. His claws softly press into my skin as he grips my shoulders. When he lifts his head to meet my gaze again, I bite my lip, conflicted, unsure how to respond. He slowly turns my body to face him. Using his claws he gently releases my lip from the confines my teeth. Oh, god. I...oh. I don't know...how...what. When his mouth meets mine in a kiss, I have no choice but to reciprocate. His soft lips a stimulating contrast to the rough abrasion of his tongue. He reaches behind us and sweeps his arm over the counter, sending bottles crashing to the floor. Without breaking the kiss, he grasps my hips and lifts me onto the table. He pulls away, leaving the taste of his mouth and sweet vitae in mine. His eyes are on mine as he unbuttons my shirt, sliding it down my arms and tossing it to the floor. Nestling his face between my breasts, he gently nips at my skin. Voice like a deep purr, he asks. "Is this ok?"

My head is spinning from these unknown sensations. "...o...k?" His hands slowly tease from my calves, past my knees, pushing my skirt up as he exposes my skin. Nudging his way in between my legs he kneels until he's level with my waist. Running his tongue along the inside of my thigh, he turns his head up to peer at me. Yellow eyes shining, his teeth elongate. Still holding my gaze, he buries his fangs into my thigh. I gasp, my hand creeping forward to grip his hair. My response incites him, and with a growl he bites in deeper. "Aah..." I whimper in pleasure...or confusion...I can't figure out.. My senses are in an incomprehensible tangle.

Law rises from his kneel. His mouth is smeared with my blood, and I savor the taste when he kisses me. This I understand. Blood. But what is...what am I feeling? What is he feeling? HOW is he feeling? His hands slip under my skirt, fingers skating along my skin as he slides my panties down my legs. I feel the faintest twinge of misgiving. I place my hands on his chest, initially to put space between us, perhaps take a minute to get my bearings. Instead I find myself exploring the planes and muscles under his shirt. My reciprocation seems to entice him more. His claws trace a pattern along my throat as his moves his hand to grip the back of my neck firmly. His tongue continues to explore my own as he deepens our kiss. His other hand runs down my body, before relocating to his own. His lips make their way from mine, grazing my jawline as he nibbles his way along my collarbone. I hear the snap and jangle of his belt as he works it open. The quiet purr of his zipper as he pulls it down. Oh. Oh, god! No! The sounds push my psyche into unwarranted hysteria.

My memories flash to him. My maker. His knife point pressed into my throat as he yanks off his belt. Grunting and thrusting on top of me as he robs me of innocence. The painful pressure of his intrusion. Too terrified to move. To fight. His hands roughly forcing my arms above my head, the belt wrapping around my wrists. The knife as it traces a torrid line down my body. Down my chest. my stomach. Further down. The blade as it penetrates...

In a panic, I roughly push a bewildered Law away from me. He hits the bar with a yelp. I pull my legs up onto the counter, wrapping my arms around them protectively. Placing my head on my knees, I whimper when I feel his tentative touch. "Mad, what..."

I jerk away, not looking at him as I blurt out: "Don't! Just...give me a minute. Please..." It's more like twenty minutes as I struggle to gain purchase on my insubordinate thoughts. When I'm mostly sure I've pulled myself out of a potential episode, I loosen up a fraction, raising my head. Law's pants are gratefully fastened, concern the dominant emotion on his face. "...sorry." I say in an uncharacteristically small voice. Am I sorry? I know he's disappointed, but his voice is steady and sympathetic when he speaks.

"Darlin'...it's...don't worry 'bout it." I uncurl from my position and slide off the counter. Picking my shirt up off the floor, I slide it on and re button it. What the hell is this. Am I embarrassed? Ashamed? Am -I- disappointed? "We should probably make an exit before anyone comes in and notices the...mess."

I nod and we head out to the car. The streets have emptied out a bit, and the lot is shrouded in shadow. Good thing, since I'm still covered in a fair amount of blood. He opens the passenger door for me, his hand brushing my back as I get in. I reactively flinch, looking away so I don't see his reaction to the slight. The car ride home is quiet, save for the thunder of the Chevelle's engine. Ever the masochist, I satiate my curiosity over his silence by taking a peep in his mind. His thoughts are full of...me. I can barely comprehend it. The affection and desire send me scampering into my own brain. I don't get it? How can he feel for me? Doesn't he realize I'm a...monster. Incapable of returning the sentiment? I puzzle over this until we reach the house.

We both exit the vehicle. I slowly amble to the porch until he speaks. Leaning against the hood of the car, he carefully picks his words. "Mad, I know you've gone through some serious...shit. You don't have to tell me about it unless you want to, and from what I'm gathering you don't. That's fine, darlin'. I still want you...uh, want you around. But..." He taps his claws on the hood distractedly. "...I can't help but feel the way I do 'bout ya." He meets my eyes, and in them I see his beast yielding. Showing me his belly.

Oh, no. I can't, I don't know how to deal with this. I can't tell him something I don't feel. Do I not feel? Isn't there something? Do I care enough to try to be something for him? Do I care at all? I open my mouth, unsure of what's going to come out of it. "Law, I...I don't think you really understand what you're getting involved with here. But, knowing you, you're not going to let that hinder your mindset." He nods in assent. "So the best you're going to get...the best I can provide...is a good old fashioned try." Can I do that? Can I try? I answer my own question by stepping up to Law. I can. This is me...trying. Leaning forward, I place my hand on his cheek, pointedly ignoring the slight tremble to my movements. Pressing my lips to his, I try to put some sort of feeling in the kiss. It isn't that hard, is it? When I pull away, he looks gratified. I guess it worked. Catching a glance of my reflection in the windshield I see an oddly similar look on my own face. "I'm gonna go clean myself up." Gesturing to my bloody clothing. "Maybe finish my book." I say with a half smile.

He returns the smile. "I'm going to go for a...run." His tail flicks back and forth and he looks every bit like a restless feline.

Finding myself curious, I cock my head to the side and ask. "As a tiger? I've always wondered what it looks like when you change."

He grins. "Happy to oblige, darlin'." He pulls his shirt over his head, doffing his pants as well. I'm briefly stunned by the exposure of his skin. His body is rippled with muscle, various scars and a few crude tattoos. He catches me staring and raises his eyebrow.

I shake myself out of the distraction. "I was always under the impression nudity wasn't necessary to take on the shape of an animal."

Smirking, he replies. "It isn't." With a flick of his tail, he transforms. One minute it's Law, the next a gorgeous tiger. The graceful animal lopes towards me, moonlight stippling his striped fur. A whiskered head nudges gently at my hand, and I respond by petting it tentatively. Law purrs and stalks away from me. I watch as he bounds into the woods, taking off with a pleased cry. Retreating into the house, I disrobe and step under the hot water, letting it clear my thoughts as well as my body.


	34. Chapter 34

Why is it so dark? I strain my eyes, but the blackness still envelops my surroundings. What's going on? My senses have never failed me like this. I see nothing. I hear nothing. I smell something...something burned? The void in my senses is overwhelming. Every iota of my being is telling me to run, make an escape somehow. No. I don't run. I'm not scared of the dark. Finally there's the sensation of another presence in the room. A laugh seems to come from nowhere. It's familiar in a way that threatens to push me into hysteria. "Not scared of the dark? That's ok, Maddie. I know what you're scared of."

No no no...please. There's got to be a way out of this. I cautiously move to my left, feeling my hip graze something. A table. I skim my hand over the top of it, looking for a makeshift weapon. The table is bare. I jerk my hand away. Hearing his laugh again, I clench my jaw. I'm done. Done cowering to him. I'm stronger than that. I'll MAKE myself stronger. I taunt him. "Why don't you show yourself? I never pegged you for a coward. A sick, twisted fuck maybe..."

In a flurry of movement, his arms surround me, more powerful than they should be. I feel the point of his knife digging into my chin. "A sick, twisted fuck, am I?"

The sound of his belt, more terror inducing than the laugh. "No!" I scream, and grab at the hand with the knife. All I receive is a slice across my palm for my troubles. Moving quick again, too quick. Too strong. He twists my arms behind me, wrapping the belt around my wrists. I try to fight back but as usual, as always, I'm too weak.

He pushes me forward, and I almost fall into the table. When I attempt to steady myself, he grabs the nape of my neck. With a rough shove, he bends me over the cold metal. My struggles are ceased when he slams my face down, bloodying my nose and stunning me. I have to fight him...have to. When he hikes my skirt up, ripping my panties off with a growl, I can feel the fight threatening to flow from me. No, I can't give in! I'm not his...I...oh god. I can't. I can't. When he thrusts himself inside me, I can do nothing but press my bloody face into the table. It feels like he's ripping me apart from the inside. I can feel the sinister kisses of blood dripping down my thighs. Grabbing a handful of my hair, forcing my head back painfully, he snarls in my ear. Each word emphasized with a thrust of his pelvis. "What was that about a sick...twisted...fuck?" I feel his knife against my neck and I almost welcome it. He keeps a steady hold on my hair, perhaps sensing my urge to slash my own throat upon his blade. "Don't you know by now, Maddie. I never let you go. I'm inside you forever." The blade trails along to my back. "Why don't I give you a reminder. A reminder that you're MINE." Something in his voice is different. It sends a whole new fear through me. Maintaining his brutal violation of my body, he presses the knife into my back. An upward slash. A descending diagonal slash. Upward diagonal. Back down in a straight line. The pain of his cutting doesn't compare to...Stop. Stop. He's laughing at he starts a new letter. Why...why does he sound like... A circle, the blood already dripping down my back. The new letter, similar to the first. I'm finally learning his name! I think to myself, near delirious. The first one was a...M...it was an M. Then the circle...an O. He finishes the third letter. An...N? Creeping dread. I feel the curve of the G before he even finishes carving it into my flesh. What? WHAT?! What is this?! The laugh is familiar in the worst way. His voice is recognizable as he hisses in my ear. "Do you understand now, Maddie? Do you get it...you crazy fucking bitch?!"

I scream, my fear reverberating through the room. The lights come on, blinding me. Mongrel growls and I feel his hand rear back to slash me with his claws. I feel the wind from his swipe as I propel myself over the table, landing with a painful thud on the cold concrete. He roars and flings the table away. "You little whore! It's your fault I'm doing this! Just take what you fucking deserve!" I cover my face with my hands, unable to believe it's him doing this to me. Please please. Let this stop. Not him! Not Mongrel! I can't I can't.. His claws catch me across my arms as I curl into my defensive position. I won't hurt him! Nothing can make me! Like a wild animal, he pounces on me, pinning me to the ground. His nails digging agonizingly into my skin. "It's time to put you down, you monster. You're disgusting." He pulls a stake from his coat pocket. I blink frantically to try to clear the blood tinged tears from my eyes as I stare into his cold yellow gaze. He's not in there. Oh, god. What have I done to him? He thrusts the stake towards my chest. In my only act of defense, I thrash hard enough to throw his aim off course. "Stop trying to halt the inevitable! You knew this was coming. What would I want with a murdering heartless bitch like you?!"

In desperation, I speak to him. My voice is wavering. "Mongrel, please! You...you don't want to do this! I know you Mongrel. You..." I choke, afraid to speak my next words. "...you love me? I know you don't want to do this." I flinch, waiting for him to deliver a killing blow. But...wait...his eyes change. His expression softens, becoming the familiar face I know.

He blinks a few times, and the stake drops from his hand. "Oh god..." he gasps. "...you're right, Maddie. I'm so sor..."

A deafening blast pierces the room, I reflexively clench my eyes shut. I feel the heavy spatter of liquid spray my skin. Dead weight on my body. The fuck? Opening my eyes, expecting the sight of Mongrel's confused face. Instead I see...I see. "NO! OH GOD PLEASE NO!" I shriek wordlessly, taking in the horrific sight. Mongrel's headless corpse rests almost comfortably on me. I'm covered, soaked...drowning in his blood. I taste it on my lips as my mouth contorts in terror. NononopleasenoonononMongrelnonono. My mouth snaps shut, cutting of my scream as my eyes focus on the figure hovering over us. Standing over me, gun pointed where my Mongrel's head used to be. HIM.

Pyotr sneers at me. His deep accent is heavy with anger. "That. Is for not following orders."

Orders? Orders? ORDERS?! I push myself up to my feet, flinching at the feel of Mongrel's corpse slipping off of me. I want nothing more than to crawl onto the ground. Embrace the shell of the Gangrel that owns my heart. Die with him in defeat. No. Pyotr. That treacherous BASTARD! KILL HIM! Unthinking, I leap towards the Regent, armed with nothing but my body and my fury. Wrapping my hands around his neck, I sink my fangs into his face. Ripping. Tearing. Knowing I can't kill him, simply wanting to cause him even an ounce of the pain I feel. Pyotr howls in anger, leveling the gun at my temple. "DO IT YOU BETRAYING FUCK! KILL ME!" Please kill me! I can't live without him! The gun goes off and I'm tossed to the ground. The side of my head feels like a shattered ruin. I can't see out of my left eye. The blood pouring from my demolished skull isn't enough. The tears seeping from one remaining eye aren't enough. I'll die for you Mongrel. It's all I can do. I cough, and muster up the spirit to spit a mouthful of blood at the stone faced killer. "Go ahead, you power hungry fuck. Finish the fucking job. You just took all I have to live for, what else is left?"

His face is cold, impassive. "I suppose...nothing." His finger tenses on the trigger as I turn my head. My final sight is of my Mongrel. My fault. My fault. The thunder of the gun going off as I'm riddled with bullets, my body torn to shreds. The last sound I hear, a disembodied manic giggling. The bewildering toot of a...vuvuzela?

"SERENDIPITY!" I yell aloud as I awaken. I scramble from the bathtub where I was sleeping, pulling the shower curtain off the hooks as I tumble to the floor. I frantically dart my eyes around the bathroom. My face is sticky with blood tears. Oh, god get him out of my head! Panting and shaking, I pull the curtain around me like a blanket. "'Dipity...that...fucking..."


	35. Chapter 35

On an unseasonably cool evening, the leaves impatiently rustling with an impending storm, Mongrel asked me to accompany him after the council meeting on the previous night. His tone of voice makes me wary, but my full trust in him leads me to follow without hesitation. He takes us to secluded pond, gesturing for me to sit beside him on the bench that over looked it. He stares out over the water for a moment before turning his gaze on me. "Hey um... I got you something... umm...I know you've been on a liver kick lately so I got a child's. Don't ask. Wasn't easy. Here." He passes the package to me with an awkward smile.

I return the smile, my eyebrows narrowing. "Not that I don't appreciate gifts but they're usually given by people afraid of, or trying to appease me."

He's quiet for a moment, I watch his expression with a cautious look of my own. "I guess I should be afraid of you but I'm not... as for the other bit, I do want you to be happy which is why I'm... which is why I need to be honest with you. Completely." The hairs seem to stand up on the back of my neck. I want to believe it's from the static in the air, but even I know better.

"Madelyn, I know 'Dipity was in your head and I know he must've said... must've made you see some terrible stuff. Baltimore isn't doin' too hot if you haven't noticed and just in case... things happen... I want you to know some things." He takes my hands, looking deep into my eyes. "First and foremost I want you to know that I love you. I will always love you. Everything I do, everything I did though it was perhaps misguided was to protect you." I'm doing my damnest to keep a emotionless, calm demeanor. I'm sure Mongrel's not oblivious to the panic that must be bubbling in my eyes.

Realizing he's waiting for some sort of response, I manage two syllables before lapsing back into a guarded silence. "...o...k?"

As he speaks, his voice seems to be doubled in timbre by a familiar, mocking tone. No, no. Don't you dare. Not now. "Secondly, I will NEVER restrain you like I did. I should've known better but sometimes I'm young and stupid. I thought it would protect you. You're older than I, and able to take care of yourself. The only exception to this I will make is if you are frenzying. Then I will put you in a safe place. Is that alright?" He pauses, seemingly unnerved from my uncharacteristic quiet. "I give you permission to do the same to me if I'm frenzying or otherwise."

I speak around the mumbling and laughter that is slowly increasing pitch in my mind. "Mongrel, I..." I wince. "I know you do what you do to protect me. Even if it isn't completely necessary...but...if I frenzy...heh...well.." I rub my forehead unconsciously. "I guess I won't really notice what you do to me." I try to get control of myself, as to not worry him. "I am a bit more capable of taking care of myself then you may think, though. And also...not used to having someone show me that I don't always have to."

He chuckles sadly, "Heh. Same here, Maddie." I try to let the caring tone in his voice penetrate my increasing fear.

He takes a deep breath and seems to brace himself, "Lastly, what I need to be honest about..." he's quiet for a moment, choosing his words, watching me with big yellow eyes filled with worry and more emotions than I can discern. "... I'm blood bonded to Pyotr mutually, it was part of our deal in order to learn Celerity. Before that though I did... admire him even if I didn't entirely trust him. During our training... things got complicated. We um... we..." he trails off and chews at his lip nervously, watching my every move.

I feel a disembodied hand grip my shoulder, I don't even have to look to know the owner. Remember, monster. Remember what I've been warning you about... I meet his stare, my body unnaturally still. "...oh?"

Red tears begin to well up in his eyes. Pathetic. A voice growls in my head. Get out of here you bastard. GET OUT. "We... had sex. Twice. I was afraid to... I don't know what this is. It just sort of happened. ... Now-" I can't control myself to meet his eyes. He lunges forward before I can respond. Gently but firmly he grabs the sides of my face, forcing me to look at him, "Use your Auspex, Maddie. Please. " his voice is soft and pleading. Look at him. That mutt. Begging you. Monster, you don't have to put up with this. He's betrayed you. Just like I said he would. You KNOW what you need to do.

I'm silent for about a minute. My maker's voice hisses in my subconscious, demanding me to retaliate. Moving slowly, but almost mechanically I removes Mongrel's hands from my face and place them in his lap. I start to rub at my head, as if I can erase the voices that way. I need to get away. I'm not...not safe right now. Feeling a strange lurch in my mind, I quickly rise from the bench, stepping a few few back and linking my hands behind my back. "And what...would I be looking for?" I squeeze my hands together hard enough to draw blood, fighting the urge to...No. I'd never. A vision of myself losing control. Attacking Mongrel. PLEASE STOP! I feel the blood dripping from my clenched fists. No one hurts my monster but me. When I speak aloud, I hear a strange inflection in my own voice. "Didn't he.." STOP! "...you...didn't YOU just tell me what I need to know?"

"Because I think what you will see will do a better job of explaining than I ever could with words."

In a voice that's not completely like my own I respond, "Oh, what she...I could see, eh?" I shake my head, trying to clear my maker's voice from my mind. From my own words. Without looking at Mongrel, I speak calmly. "I don't know if I want to see what's in there, Mongrel."

He stands and inches towards me, voice soft and almost tangibly dripping with pain. Good. Good. Let him hurt. STOP STOP! "Trust me... that is all I ask of you. I never imagined I'd actually begin to feel for you... and then even then I never foresaw us becoming more... I pined for you, Madelyn, but it was always touch and go. I could never get close to you and now... in our time together I have never failed you... all I have ever done, was to protect you. Let me show you why."

Excuses, monster. Is that how you love someone? How you protect someone? Certainly even I showed my true intentions at all times. How could someone who -loves- you so be capable of this sort of behavior? I step back a little. In a quiet voice, not directed towards Mongrel, I whisper, "...you were right..." My face contorts in sorrow. "No!" I shout, and looks up at him. "I...you. Mongrel maybe I should..." Go. Maybe I should go before I do something I regret...

Madelyn, please... come back to me. Please. I need you to see... it's tearing me up-" Blood tinged tears streak down his face.

I start to cover my own face with my hands, but I stop when I see the ruby liquid smeared across the wounds on my palms. Staring at it for a moment I look into Mongrel's eyes. My lips curl into a unwanted smile. The smile is evil and looks out of place. Beyond my control, my maker's voice rasps through my mouth. "You sure you want me in your head, boy?" I gasp in a breath, shaking my head. Leave him alone!

When I meet Mongrel's eyes again, my own are filled with tears. Mongrel growls at the inflection in my voice. He flickers and blurs, wrapping me up in his arms in an instant, staring into my eyes. "I'm not afraid of you." As to whom he's talking to is unclear, his voice is a low growl as he strokes my temple with his thumb, "Come back to me? Please? I can't lose you too."

I flinch, my face reflecting a fight for control. Such a brave pup. No wonder you love this one, monster. His fire matches yours.. Speaking in that voice again, I say, "Doesn't matter if you're afraid...she is. She always will be, and you're just solidifying that fear." I sob. "...please stop..." "Make me." I growls. "Better yet, make him do it." I look up at Mongrel, terrified. Oh, god. I can't lose control like this! You can't make me. I have to get away.

I pull away a fraction but Mongrel refuses to let go, his voice is strong and something just above a growl, "She's not yours anymore. Now, you best let her go because you know I never will." His voice feels like a burning spear through my heart, simultaneously gouging and cauterizing. And still my maker taunts me. He'll let you go. The time will come when he'll tear you from your false little paradise. The only way to stop this is to rid yourself of him!

I whimper. "Why? Why don't any of you let me go?"

Mongrel twitches at the question, eyes and voice going soft, "... Maddie? I-I'm sorry. I'll... let you go if you want me to."

Laughter echoes in my head. "No...not...you? Oh, god." I start unconsciously digging my fingers into the cuts on my hands, rending them open further. Hoping the pain will bring me back to myself. "Please just let me...let me go." I looks up at Mongrel, scared, shaking my head. Not you. Not you! Why can't he hear me?

A few more tears roll down his cheeks as he gently takes my wrists and kisses at where I dug my nails in. Releasing me with a small sob, "As you wish."

Hahaha, there you go monster. There's one way to do it. I shake my head again and grip his coat. I'm trying to push him away, despite the fact that my hands refuse to relinquish their grasp. He seems confused and hesitantly re wraps his arms around me protectively. The disembodied voice growls angrily in my head. "...stop...please just stop..." I look up, my face impossible to read with all the emotions running through it. "he won't...won't let me..."

Mongrel gently pulls me down on the grass with him, wrapping his arms around me, he begins stroking my hair murmuring, "I'm here. I'm here Maddie."

I want to give in so badly. But to whom? "Yeah...you are..." I try half heartedly to pull away, but my body collapses into Mongrels arms. I'm such a mess. "No wonder you..." I shake my head sadly.

His face reflects a heart breaking sadness. "I'm sorry. So so so sorry. If you had just looked... I'm sorry. I-I-I wanted to show you how much I love you."

I can't be trusted in your head Mongrel. You shouldn't even trust me in your arms..Laughter. Oh, please monster. Let's play in your loves mind. What fun we could have. Let's see how much he -loves- you. My vision becomes blurry and red. "But...really. He's right, isn't he? How could you? There's just no winning is there? Not for a monster." Tears run down my face. "I understand, Mongrel. Is is...it's what I deserve." My thoughts linger on all I've hurt. Law. Jonah. I am just a monster. Why would I ever think I could achieve anything other than misery?

Mongrel speaks, "Whenever I've looked at you -never- have I seen a monster... even when you were drenched in blood and surrounded by bodies... all I saw was a scared girl. I thought I could save you... then I realized you didn't need saving."

I stare at him, trying to view myself through his eyes. "Is that possible?" Of course it's not possible, monster! No one can see you as anything but what I made you into. I angrily wipe the tears from my face. "Stop! Godamn you..." I bury my head in Mongrel's chest "...sorry."

"Oh, Mongrel. Just...give up on me. Go...go find what you need in someone else. Him. Whoever." my voice is desolate. "I'm not worth it right now. Ever. I never was. He's right about that." I sigh. "...I'm right about that."

I feel his lips curve into a smile against my hair, "That would be easier, wouldn't it? However, I'm the stubborn type. I will -never- let you go unless you want me to. You are worth it."

My maker is waging war on my mind. That silly pup. To think that I'll ever let him have you. You're MINE and I will never let you go. "So many just won't let me go..." I barely notice my words were spoken aloud. "Are they so different?" I speak to Mongrel. "I don't want you to let me go. But I know...how can I expect to keep you?" Is this really what it feels like? Being human? Feeling?

Mongrel's voice interrupts my thoughts. "The difference is you're not my captive, Maddie. The difference is I wish you wouldn't let go of me."

I look up at him, shocked. "You think I could let go of you?" He believes me so much stronger than I am. "No. That's the hard part. The bad part. I'd hold on till it killed me." It will, monster."...and it probably will." I say in an undertone, echoing my maker's words. It'll probably kill both of us.

"Not if I can help it." He kisses my forehead.

Haha, he won't be able to help it. No one will. NO ONE. At the touch of his lips, I whimper quietly. Frightened, yet desperate for his touch.

"Oh. Sorry" he says, misinterpreting my reaction. He pulls away a bit but still retains his hold on me. I take one of his hands and place it on my chest.

"You know, if there's anything in there. Anything worth having ...it's yours." I sigh in response to the perturbed growl that echoes in my thoughts. "Oh, he's so angry with me..." I mumble to myself.

He caresses my temples lovingly, "Too bad. You don't belong to him. You belong to yourself, Maddie. I will do what I can to protect you." H

e can only protect you out there, monster. In here...you're mine. He can't save you. I frown. "Good luck with that one. He almost...almost.." I shudder. He's almost winning. ALMOST?! Monster, I have won. Your pet has seen to that. I stiffen in Mongrel's arms, whimpering quietly. "...please don't...please.." I look in his eyes, my face reflecting a fierce emotional battle.

He strokes my hair lovingly, "I'm here and I'm not going anywhere until I know you're alright."

"Mongrel..." I say warily. "..you may have to..I can't control..." Please, just leave me. No no monster. We want him to stay. He hurt you, now it's his turn. Let's make him pay. I start to argue out loud. "You're wrong! He...you can't make me..." I pull away from his embrace. "I'm not safe right now." I say to him with a growl.

"No," he says calmly, "You're not. Which is why I'm going to hold you."

The thought of him bringing himself into such close proximity when the danger is so close to rearing it's head sends a panic through me. "No! You're the last person that should be here if I'm..." I clutch at my head and speak in a lower voice. "Let him stay, monster...let the boy see the real you...see if he still loves you then.." Stop! GET OUT OF ME!

"I'm not afraid of you." He whispers to me, "And I'm not afraid of -you- either, mister." he whispers in response to the the other voice coming from me.

I rise to my feet, narrowing my eyes at Mongrel. "Not afraid of me? That's ok little pup. We know what you're afraid of.." "...stop...stop.." I say in a desperate voice. He stands too, still watching me, speaking in a voice that's calm and loving,

"Yes you do. You know all my weaknesses and yet I stand before you. You can do your worst but it will not change the fact that I love you and I am here for you and I will do all that I can to protect you."

My thoughts are filled with my maker's voice, I struggle to speak in my own cadence. "I know your weaknesses...I'm one of them." I say in a small voice. Then, more assertive, I respond, "Protect her? How do you expect to protect her? By doing what you did?" I sneer. "I must say I'm impressed, even I never managed to inflict pain like this on her."

"No, that was a mistake, I know that now. By keeping others from harming her as best as I can... such as yourself." He speaks to my change of voice, almost like he knows it's a hallucination but playing into it anyway, his voice softens, "Maddie come back to me. Maddie, please?" I sob aloud, covering my face with my hands. Desperate to be in control. Desperate to keep him away, to keep him safe. He approaches me but keeps a distance, "Maddie, I want to hold you. Maddie?"

I pull my hands from my face with a growl, reaching down to my boot. Pulling out my hunting knife, I point it at Mongrel. "Stay...back." I says in a harsh voice. The hand with the knife in it trembles the slightest bit. Maybe if I scare him away. He'll be safe from me. No. Not from me. I'd never.. From him FROM HIM! Quicker than I, he darts forward knocking it out of my hand as he steps towards me. He kicks it out of reach.

Please. Please don't make me hurt him. NO NO! I won't! I WON'T! I hiss angrily, even as I feel a relief wash over my face. "I'm serious...boy..." the voice snarls out of me. I shake my head frantically. NO. GET OUT. "Mongrel...please..."

He stays at arm's reach but doesn't come any closer. Standing there with his hands up, "Still here." he says calmly.

He...won't. Leave me. I wrap my arms around myself, speaking in a soft voice, "..still here..he's still here..what's your next move?" The mocking, evil voice in my head is silent. Is it? Did he leave? Am I...are we safe? Abruptly I fall to my knees. Mongrel inches towards me on his knees tentatively wrapping his arms around me. His touch is so welcome I find myself overwhelmed. How can I do this? "Don't." I beg him.. "Please, it's too much. It's too much and it...hurts. I don't understand."

Mongrel whispers, "Are you speaking to me or him? He isn't real, he's just a mirage, Maddie."

I know. I know. You're here. He'll always leave when you're here, Mongrel. I look up at him, tears spilling from my eyes. "You, Mongrel. I'm talking to you." Perplexed by my own thoughts and feelings. "Why do I feel? Like...this?" Hurt. So hurt. Hurt and I just want him to heal me. "Don't." I say again, not even sure who I'm directing my words to.

He looks at me seriously, eyes appearing far older than a twenty-three year old's, "Do you want me to? I don't think you do which is why I'm still here."

No, please don't...don't listen to me. Stay with me. Oh, my love. That's what all this is, isn't it? I don't know how to handle this love. "No, no. I want you. I want you here. But...why?" I hold a hand to my chest. He just smiles, watching me, waiting for me to speak. "Is this what it's like? To truly feel and...love?""And...hurt?"

"I suppose." He whispers into my neck.

I begin to relax in his embrace. Silent for a few moments, when I finally speak again my voice is sad, remorseful. "Oh, god. Mongrel I'm...I'm so sorry." How can I let myself get so out of control? What if I had hurt him? Even if he...hurt me. I'm disgusted with myself.

He kisses my forehead gently, "Maddie? Are you back?" I close my eyes briefly at the feel of his kiss. I nod, wrapping my arms around him, quietly weeping. "I'm-I'm sorry I-I didn't mean to trigger this." Oh, Mongrel. Not as sorry as I am. I'm sorry that I lose control. I'm sorry that you have to love me. "I guess I should've known. I'm sorry."

"...s'not your fault. Not really. I'm kind of a mess on my own accord, aren't I?"

"I think you're doing pretty good considering." He smiles.

How can he believe in me after all this? I raise my head, giving him a skeptical look. "Sure. I mean, I didn't gut you...or Dement you...or..." I bury my head in his coat, ashamed. I speak again, my voice muffled and quiet."...Christ..." Christ I love you, Mongrel. Christ I wish I could be...sane for you. Human, for you.

He picks up my knife and tucks it into his trench coat before helping me up. Trying to lighten the mood, I jest. "I'll expect that back when I...yeah." I give him a half hearted smile, but my face remains sad and weary.

"What was that? I'm a stubborn motherfucker and you love me for it?' I thought so." The half smile twitches into a more natural one."Yes, when you're not all stabby stab, I will give it back."

"When am I -not- all...never mind." I tentatively take his hand.

As they make it back to our haven and walk up the gravel lane to the secluded house, Mongrel addresses me, his tone catching me off guard. "Madelyn I want you to have the house. It's in your name now. You don't have to follow through with the historical renovations so long as you keep paying the bills, they aren't much. I know you can manage." I still, staring at him blankly. What?

"They won't care, they won't follow up, I pulled some strings. It is a safe place that few know about. Only myself, Simon, and Magnus really." Confusion sets it's hooks in me. What is he doing?

I look at him suspiciously. "Why? Are you.." What the hell is he...after what just..I don't understand. Cutting myself off, looking worried, I ask. "Why do you want me to have the house?"

We get to the front porch and he lets me go, leaning on the railing. There are more tears in his eyes that he seems to be trying to fight. He fails his own battle and they spill over while he talks... "You need something of your own and we both need space."

My heart seems to simultaneously burst into flames and drop into a pit of nothingness. He's...he's leaving me. Oh my...god.

I stare at him. "But..." My face reflects the terror I feel for a split second, before I wipe it clean of emotion. I struggle to speak for a moment, but manage to respond in a detached voice. "Oh. Well. That's what you want. Ok." This is what he wants. What he wanted all along? But I don't want...I turn my face, avoiding meeting eyes with him again. If I look at him. I think I'll just die. There's no way. No way I can take losing him. Please. Please, no.

"Madelyn" he says in an almost fatherly voice, "I'm not leaving you, just giving you freedom since you are capable of taking care of yourself. I mean it as a gift. I will still be around if you want me to." He gives a wry smile, "And think of it this way, you get all the hot water." His attempt at humor is lost on me. I still can't look at him

"Ok." I say in that same detached voice. "You're right." Of course you're right. Everyone was right. How did I ever EVER expect to keep him? Why did I think my pathetic excuse for love could hold him to me? Why...why am I so fucking...I cut the thought off. Gotta keep control. Maybe...hey...maybe I can keep him from hurting at least.

Mongrel seems conflicted, he's still crying bloody tears but manages to keep his voice steady. "You have my cell if you need me. If you -EVER- need me... I um don't hesitate... Maddi-Madelyn."

His last words cause me to look up, well aware of the agony that shows on my face despite my cool response. "Well...thanks. I'll make sure to give you call if I need you...Sheriff." I turn my back to him, stepping back off the porch. Just like that. It's that...that easy. Easy. It's...easy. Oh god. No. No. I hear him give a loud sob behind me. Stop it! Just stop it! Set me on fire! Stab me. KILL ME! Just please stop this.

I hear his voice, faint as he flickers and disappears down the driveway. "Sorry." I hear the roar of his truck start up before I'm lost in the swirling pain in my thoughts. How could he? How can I? I can't. I CAN'T. I need him! Please, Mongrel! I need you. I...I love you! Please, please, please I can't...how can I live without...I beg for him in my mind, knowing it's pointless. Pathetic. Stupid! I'm so fucking stupid! How did I not realize this is how it would end? That it would end at all? I hear a keening in the air, like a dying animal. It's only when I notice the burning trail of tears down my face that I realize I'm making the sound. I'm falling apart without making a move. Everything. Everything is falling apart. Please. Can't I just die? My feet start moving. Moving away from the house. There's no way I can stay in there without him. The empty house. Empty. Why can't I empty out? I think of my few possesions. The worn news article with my only tangible memory of my family. My feet keep moving. My walk turns into a run, as if I can outrun the pain. Idiot. When have you ever been able to hide from pain? Never.

Before I know it, dawn is threatening. I start towards the shelter of a abandoned building, but pause several feet before I reach the entrance. Oh. My body seems to realize my plans before my mind does. Well, that's simple. Of course, Madelyn. The sky starts to lighten. I forgot how beautiful the sky could be. Pathetically, I find myself wishing I could share the beauty of it with...STOP. Just fucking let it go. Like he's letting you go. Let it all go. This is one thing you can be strong enough to do. My skin feels hot. It hurts, but I'm not stranger to pain. Not at all. I set my eyes on the rising sun for the first time in over fifty years. Don't remember it being that...bright. The heat increases as my skin starts to burn. And as hard as I'm trying to let go...as much as I want to give up...

I use what could possibly be the last remaining bit of strength and rush to the shelter in a blur of speed. When my scorched, damaged body makes it into one of the windowless rooms, I collapse with a scream. Despite the burns covering my flesh, my scream is not one of physical pain. It echoes in the empty building, I find myself expecting it to destroy the foundation of the walls themselves. Bury me in my pain. No...such...luck. I curl in the corner, allowing the pull of sleep drag me under, my last thought being of my...no. Not mine. Not mine anymore.


	36. Chapter 36

May of 1973.

"Madelyn, I love you."

The three words seem to echo around the room several times before settling into my psyche. When they do, I extract myself out of Law's embrace. "...what?!" I spit out, taking another step back.

"I said, I lo..."

Almost slipping into my defensive crouch, I hastily interrupt the Gangrel when he starts to speak again. "No, Law. I heard what you said, I just, what the fuck?!"

He laughs tentatively at my sputtered outburst, the laugh trailing of as he reads my expression. "This shouldn't come as a surprise darlin'. After all, why else would I put up with your, well..." A glance at the boarded up window. Broken just a night or two ago during one of my episodes.

"Maybe I figured you were a masochist." He attempts to step closer to me, possibly to pull me back into his arms. "Or a moron." He only just manages to mask the hurt expression that wants to show when I retreat back, creating more distance between us. Those three words keep bouncing around my already frazzled skull, and I have to shake my head in a failed attempt to clear it. "Law, you must be out of your fucking mind."

His aura churns sickly as he replies, voice laced with bitterness. "That would make it easier, wouldn't it? Easier for you. Then you wouldn't have to come to terms with the fact that you're not really the monster that you claim to be."

I flinch a bit at his words. "This isn't a good decision for you."

He scoffs. "Decision? Darlin', love isn't a god damned decision. Even you should realize that, as skewed as your sense of reality is."

That twangs at a nerve. "Gee, thanks Law." I spit out, angrily.

He sighs, holding his hands out in supplication. "Mad, look, let's not start flinging insults at each other. I don't expect you to reciprocate. You know I'd never push you into anything." His eyes settle on mine. "It's just something I wanted to.." he gestures with a hand. "..articulate. Nothing has to change."

I squeeze my eyes shut, unable to continue looking at Law. His sincerity seeps into my thoughts, triggering the gag reflex of my emotions. No way. My eyes snap open, and settle on the Gangrel. He perches on the side of worn couch, his expression concerned. "Y'alright, Mad?"

I shake my head, pinching my lips shut against any words that could incriminate me. Taking a few jerky steps out of the room, I'm unsurprised to hear Law's footsteps following. Without turning around to acknowledge him, I lurch over to my boots laying by the door, and in one swift movement, step into them and zipper them up. It's then that he reaches out to grasp my shoulder. For the first time in many months, I flinch away from him. I don't see the wounded look on his face, just as he misses my own stricken expression. His hand pulls away. "You're not running off, are you?"

I turn to face him, attempting to keep my face placid. "I just need to...go for a little bit. Go for a walk or," I shrug, stiffly.

He still looks worried. "You know I didn't mean to.."

I cut him off with a wave of my hand, speaking more calmly than I feel. "I'll be back, Law." My eyes flick down, just for a moment, betraying the honesty I try to convey. I reach out, taking his hand and squeezing it gently. "I'll be back." I hold his gaze this time, and he seems placated. Dropping his hand, I turn and fling myself out the door, into the dark and damp, wishing to get far from his benevolent gaze.

I'm almost proud of myself. I manage to make it several miles from the house, before collapsing on the moist dirt between a cluster of trees. What do I do, now? How could he spring something like this on me? How the fuck can he think he LOVES me? I know I should get up and keep walking. Keep walking until I'm out of his reach. Instead of rising, leaving and breaking my word, I pull my knees into my chest and bury my face against them. GET UP. "Noo.." I almost wish I'd slip into a episode. A tiny part of me wishes for my maker's hissing voice in my head. Anything, anything to point me in a sensible direction. I ignore the moisture in my eyes, on my cheeks, telling myself it's from the rain. There's no phantom words of wisdom, no threats of danger. I can't figure this out on my own. Please. I desperately glance around at the surrounding woods, as if some figure will step out and tell me how to live my unlife. I'm smart enough to not be disappointed when there's nothing and no one coming to my rescue. Maybe because I just ran from the one who's willing to rescue me. Scooting back in the mud, I lean against the tree behind me, my clothes and hair slowly getting soaked in the downpour. I stay there for hours, adjusting my position only to curl into ball in the dirt. It's only once the rain stops, that I mindlessly climb to my feet and trudge back to the house.

Tracking mud into the empty den, I pause only long enough to pull my boots off and toss them in the general direction of the front mat. I breathe in through my nose, and follow the familiar scent to Law's bedroom. A light can be seen in the hallway, and when I enter the room, he's sitting up in the bed, staring at me. He doesn't bother to hide the concern in his expression as I stand at the foot of the bed, my clothes dripping rhythmically onto the carpet. His golden eyes survey me, but he doesn't move from his spot on the bed.

"Mad? Darlin', are you alright?"

My eyes drop from his, and I stare at the ground. I raise my hands to the collar of my shirt, awkwardly opening the buttons without looking up. The wet fabric laying open over my bra, I slide the shirt down my arms and drop it onto the floor. Still refusing to look up, my hands start shaking as I untie the drawstring on my muddy skirt. In a blur of movement that I don't see, Law is in front of me, holding my hands still. "What are you doing?" I halfheartedly attempt to pull my hands from his. He sits on the edge of the bed, staring up at me until I meet his eyes. I chew my lip, and gently pull one of my hands free. Placing it on the back of his neck, I bring my face to his, my mouth to his, and kiss him with as much passion as I can fabricate. His accedes, and I use the distraction to shimmy my skirt down my hips to join my shirt. He pulls back and I see the hunger in his eyes, how he's holding back. "You don't have to do this, darlin'" I take both of his hands, drawing them around me in an embrace. Without thinking, I climb onto his lap. Now, there's a tremor in his hands as they press lightly into my hips. "I don't -have- to do anything. I want to." His lips part, as if to argue further, and I interrupt him with another kiss. He groans into my mouth and pulls me farther onto the bed, rolling me onto my back. Law claws at my remaining garments, and I'm saved the trouble of removing my own clothes and his. I physically respond the best I can, using his fire and passion to numb my mind into a fog as the night turns to teeth, tongue and hands.

The room is quiet and dark. My clothes long since forgotten on the floor, I'm suddenly over aware of my nakedness. I pull the covers up to my shoulders and roll over to face the door. Law shifts slightly, his body close to mine, but not touching. Sunrise must be near, and I'm shamed to feel grateful that he'll be losing consciousness before me. I start to relax, mistaking his silence for sleep.

"I love you." His soft voice makes my body tense in a way that I pray he doesn't notice. I bury my face deep into the comforter. After a few minutes of silence, I speak one dreaded syllable, muffled by the blanket.

"Why?"

He doesn't respond right away, but draws closer. I can feel the breath from his words in my hair.

"Because I know who you are under the crazy. Beautiful, and fierce."

I don't even realize that I'm shaking my head in dissent until I feel his hand stilling the movement. I squeeze my eyes shut. He doesn't know what he's talking about. I'm weak. A monster. "There's too much dark."

His voice drags a bit, as if he's fighting the oncoming torpor just to spew this fiction. "I want your dark. I know the light underneath it."

I pull the comforter from my face, repeating my words from earlier. "You're out of your fucking mind." I hate that beneath the bewilderment and denial, there's this spark of something in my chest that makes me desire something I probably can't feel. He chuckles a little from behind me.

"Maybe I am, darlin'. Doesn't change anything." He pulls the covers down slightly, his fingertips grazing the skin on my back and shoulders. When he speaks again, his voice lacks the humor it had just a moment ago, but is rife with gentleness. "You scars run deep. Even the ones I can't see." My brow furrows, and I find myself wanting to draw away from his touch. "I know I can't fix them, but I want to make them hurt...less. I want to try." A slight growl creeps into his tone. "If I didn't suspect that you already did it, I'd like to tear the person that did this to you into unrecognizable shreds."

Despite the sensitive subject matter, his soft touch lulls me into a sense of security. Is he strong enough? I cut that thought off, refusing to entertain the notion that there could be a happy ending for me. His hand stills, coming to a stationary rest on my side. He's quiet, cold and finally asleep. Clenching the covers to my chest, I stare blankly into the dark room. Fighting the pull of sleep myself, I speak aloud to the silence. "I'll only hurt you. I can't not. There's nothing in me to love." I'm already making plans in my head, even as I drift into unconsciousness. "...sorry you're too stupid to realize that."

I wake up before full nightfall, taking advantage of his heavy slumber to gather my few belongings. My mind is unusually clear and quiet as I stealthily move about the house. Slipping into Obfuscate, I'm off of the property and out of Law's life before he even fully wakes for the night.


	37. Chapter 37

I awaken with a hiss of pain, my scorched skin stuck to the filthy carpet. Blinking a few times, clearing the film of red that clouds my vision, I painfully pull myself into a sitting position. What the? Oh...right. The previous night, and morning, comes back to me in a agonizing rush. I wrap my arms around myself for a moment while I try to get a hold of my emotions. Let's not break down again, ok? Try to keep your shit together for at least a few hours. I unconsciously rock back and forth for a few minutes. Feeling like I've grasped sanity enough, I rise to my feet. The house I squatted in is long since a few pieces of furniture scattered around. Some signs that mortals have been using it for a crash pad. Probably a good thing there aren't any around right now, I think they'd find themselves violently evicted. I wander into the bathroom, checking the mirror to see what damage I did to myself. The glass is cracked down the middle, splitting my reflection in two. Cracked...how appropriate. I think bitterly. My face stares back at me, it's almost painful to look at. My green eyes stand out in contrast to the red rimmed sockets. My skin...oh, how lovely...is a moist, raw shade of crimson. Flinching at the face in the mirror, I turn away. It could be worse. Dead worse, I suppose. I sigh a little when I think of what I almost achieved. Good thing I'm not a coward, and good thing Ms Lucy was kind enough to give me those Celerity lessons. I'll have to thank her again when I...when I'm able to. I rub at my face, giving out a yelp when I abrade the tender flesh. Ok, I guess I better eat. For once, I don't have the excited blood lust that abounds when I go on the hunt. I push my morose feeling aside and take off from the house, unconsciously fading from view as I search out a meal.

After I feed, shocking myself with my rather tame actions during the act, I slip back into Obsfucate and amble along as I ponder my next move. I'm paranoid and on edge, every time my mind starts creeping towards...him. It's almost lonely in my skull, my own thoughts seem to be predominant for once. Before I realize it I start up a painfully familiar path. My feet once again betraying my thoughts. Oh, you idiot. You're just asking for an episode aren't you? When I reach the break in the woods and set eyes on the house I have to stop and gather my bearings again. What did I expect? C'mon Mad. Pull your fucking self together. It's just a house. Just a house. It was our house. Our...home. I growl under my breath. Man the hell up. With that thought I march up to the porch, and through the front door.

Hold it together. Hold it together. I repeat the mantra in my head as I head to my room. Passing his, I glance in despite my better judgement. It's bare and empty. My heart give a lurch. When I take a deep breath to try to calm myself, all I inhale is his spicy, woodsy scent. Before I know it I'm on my knees, trembling as those wretched tears start up again. Stop it. Stop it you pathetic...Just shut the fuck up, GET the fuck up and do what you came here to do. I drag myself to my feet, still weeping, and speed into my own bedroom. Wiping my face angrily, I grab a backpack. From my end table I extract my news clippings, folding them with care and place them in the front pocket of my bag. I grab my ipod, and a few other odds and ends that hold a little meaning to me. I look around the room, contemplating my other belongings. Thinking of the upcoming Elysium, I pick up another bag and shove a few changes of clothes in it. Really? You're really considering going back there? Ya think you're strong enough to face everyone, everyone including him? I lift my chin. Yeah. Guess I am. While the easiest decision would seem to be to just uproot and move on from Baltimore, I feel compelled to stay. There's nothing but physical, and mental battles going on here but I've set too many ties. I've got too many unanswered questions. Too many battles I yearn to fight. Too many...friends. I shake my head ruefully at that mind boggling notion. I exit the house, locking the door behind me. I start to rear my arm back to chuck the keys into the woods, but stop myself. Who knows, maybe I'll be strong enough to come back eventually. Maybe he will, too. With that bit of wishful thinking I put on a burst of speed and make my way back to my abandoned safe haven.

Some time later, I'm sitting on the ratty couch, staring into the dark through the dingy window. The reflection that periodically glances at me has improved slightly since feeding. My skin no longer looks like an open, festering wound. It's still sore, but at least the angry pink of the scorched flesh matches my hair. Phil Collins, Against All Odds plays in my ears. With each song of loss and heartbreak, I start to think my Ipod has a personal vendetta against me. Yes. Because obviously, electronics want to witness your demise. I take the ear plugs out with a sigh. Why didn't I just follow through? Even if my soul...I scoff at that notion...was destined for hell, how much worse could it be than here and now? My vision starts to blur red again, and I absently start gouging holes into the already tattered upholstery. Oh, for christ sakes STOP. If I start crying again I'll gouge my eyes out. My own thoughts inquire, Then what's stopping you? "What -did- stop me?" I wonder aloud. I'm a lot of things, but a coward has never been one of them. That can't be the only reason. I think of the agony of never seeing those haunting yellow eyes again. I'm acting like a lovesick teenager. Oh...wait. I shake my head at myself.

"You're acting like the ultimate emo kid. You want some Good Charlotte and a straight razor to go with that?" I crack a smile at the phantom intonation of my dhamphir partner in crime. Fate's imaginary voice sets my mind on her disappearance . Wherever she is, she better be ok. I don't make friends just for them to meet untimely demises.

Friends. Once again I'm dwelling on that strange sentiment. I've managed to get in good graces with the majority of the Kindred, but aren't some of theses allegiances something more? Do I not genuinely care for Miss Lucy? The Toreador treats me with such kindness, almost as if she sees something other than the monster. And Marcus...with whatever ill things I've heard of the Tremere, he shows me respect and equality. Going as far as defending me during the Council meeting. Even I can appreciate that. Then there's the camaraderie I'm finding with Father Maletoni. Even without the favor he's doing for me, haven't Tommy and I fallen into an easy association? Don't I find myself getting chummy with the Gangrel? Munin, Nyck, Samantha...I don't even have to fake interest in conversation with them. Although I've always had a soft spot for Gangrel. I think, wryly. Wouldn't I feel an inkling of sorrow to sever those ties? Feel the bitter sting of tears at their bereavement? Bereavement. The word and it's associations bring a painful thoughts to focus. Am I not currently trying to ignore the possibility that I very well may have suffered a permanent loss of a dear...friend?

I briefly relive the alarming moment when I heard the news report. Fire. An explosion at a private airplane hangar. Said airplane due to return to Las Vegas. I didn't even notice the remote being crushed into unidentifiable shards of plastic as I watched. No. No. Tybalt. The last memory before I left Elysium that night. Tybalt's eyes, dark and intense as they bored into mine. "Maddie, leave the club. Now. I'm warning you because I like you.." I put faith in his demand and procured a hasty exit. Later, hearing of the explosion at Elysium, I knew I owed Tybalt tremendous gratitude. Gratitude I planned on repaying until...

I snap back into the present. Do you really believe he's dead, Mad? I chew at my nails, perturbed. How could he survive that? Tybalt is beyond powerful but...all that fire. The concept that once again, someone I care about ceases to exist sends me into another wave of sadness. Even indirectly, it just seems tragedy comes to anyone I hold in high regard. I pull my knees up, wrapping my arms around them and shielding my face. Maddie, the purveyor of devastation. It's true. From my family and on, I've alienated and destroyed anything that came close to the monster. I seized Law from his pack, his friends, and then what? Gave him false hope for years just to disappear when he revealed his true feelings. I practically took Jonah's life with my own hands. And now Mongrel...I press my face into my knees harder, hoping the physical pain will distract me from the emotional affliction.

"Hurts doesn't it, darlin'?" My head flies up in shock at the familiar purr of a voice. Well, this is a new hallucination, isn't it? Law taps a claw over his chest, "Just around here, am I right?" I'm dumbstruck as the specter of my former Friend? Lover? Roommate? takes a seat next to me. "Cat got your tongue?" He asks, his mouth twisted into the same toothy grin I remember.

"Why...why are -you- here?" I'm so used to the more threatening delusions that this one puts me on edge more than usual.

Law shrugs. "Who else could relate to having someone you love up and leave you?"

I flinch. "...guess I deserve that."

He rolls his eyes. "There's your problem. You're so hard up on not accepting the consequences for the changes you've been facing." I look at him, confused. Changes? "Why do you think you deserve that?"

My brow furrows. "Because you're one of the many people I've hurt." "Ah, right. Maddie...sorry...Madelyn the purveyor of destruction." I'm beginning to get irritated, once again feeling like I'm missing some crucial point. Law smiles again. "If only I met you at this time in your life. Things might of worked out better for your ol' tiger."

"What makes you say that?" I ask, genuinely confused.

"You tellin' me you haven't noticed?" He laughs, and rests a hand on my shoulder. I'd be lying if I said the contact wasn't comforting, despite the illusion of it. "There. That right there. You know how long it took before I could touch you without you flinching like a rabbit in a snare?" I'm well aware. The difficulty of discerning that every bit of physical contact wasn't a predecessor to violence. "Now lookit you. While you're never going to be as brazen as most Kindred are, you're certainly more susceptible to the physical aspect of unlife." Thinking on some of those more...physical encounters...I'm glad my cheeks are already red. "Then there's all...this." He gestures to me. I don't have to question him this time. For every bit the wreck I look on the outside, it doesn't hold a candle to..sigh...I look at him, tapping a finger over my own heart. He nods. "It's easier when you believe you're a monster, isn't it? Easier than admitting that you're not as dead inside as you thought." And there are those treacherous tears again. I don't fight them this time. They're probably not what I should have been fighting, anyway. "You've come a long way, darlin'. You've been battling with the wrong part of yourself for too long. Now it's not just you in this war. You've got yourself some soldiers. They're fighting for you. Even the broody blond." He makes a face. Even as a delusion, he's still got Law's sass. Staring at my feet, I feel a pang of guilt. I really do owe that boy a...something. An apology. An explanation. Maybe an offering of body parts. Law's apparition gets up, walking towards the door.

"Keep fighting the good fight. You're a warrior, Maddie. My Maddie." Once again my head snaps up. Law's gone, and in his place...

"Daddy?" He gives me a proud smile. Oh, Daddy. Can I do it? Am I really strong enough? It's so hard, there's so much... My father nods, and as his image fades from view...

O' Fortuna starts inexplicably playing from my pants pocket. I'm befuddled, wondering what kind of phantasm this could be Oh, right...cell phone. I feel a spark of hope as I pull the phone from my pocket, but it fizzles when I see an unknown number. Really? How'd I get so damn popular? I flip it open, answering in a dull monotone. "...hello." A very recognizable voice speaks on the other end, sending a genuine spark of happiness through me for the first time this week. A grin spreads across my face as the friendly voice pauses, my gleeful response being, "I fucking KNEW IT!"


	38. Chapter 38

Tossing my iPod onto the table, I rise from the couch to pace the living room, again. Christ. He said he was coming over, where the fuck is he?! My mind goes to the worst place, like always. I can't help but imagine him caught, killed, or worse. Chewing my already mauled fingernails, I jump at the sound of a knock at the door. "'Bout damned time..." I mumble to myself, before swinging the door wide. A dark eyed, blue haired Lasombra stands on the porch. I open my mouth to chastise him on his lateness, and close it again as I take a deep inhale of his scent. Cocking my head to the side, I speak his name in inquiry "Tybalt?"

He stumbles past the threshold, kicking the door shut behind him. When he speaks, his words are pain filled slur. "They killed him."

I blink in confusion, but miss the chance to respond when the door is once more flung open. Mongrel barges in, crying, "MADDIE?!" he stops short, catching his breath at the sight of Tybalt, eyes wide and mouth open.

Tybalt looks up as the door opens. Seeing Mongrel, his eyes go hard. What. Shit? What? My eyes widen at both Mongrel's appearance and Tybalt's words. "Nice to see you got my message." Tybalt snarls to the Gangrel. Turning his attention back to me, I try to hide my shock, and the hint of elation I feel at Mongrel's presence. "The fucking Russian killed Hanzel. For helping me." Gulp. Guess I'll be next on Pyotr's list.

As if just realizing his surroundings, Mongrel shakes himself, looking around and shutting the door behind him with unnatural speed. Fucking showoff. His hand flickers to his side to his weapons and he circles around the wall with his back towards it, "... T-Tybalt?" My eyes tick back and forth between the two, muscles tense, ready to spring if either of them show a sign of malevolence.

Tybalt looks back at the Gangrel, noting his defensive posture. "Don't bother."

Tybalt flops down on the floor, pulling a bottle of wine out of his hoodie. He uncaps it and begins drinking, adding to the already pungent stench of booze. Settling my gaze on Mongrel, I speak quietly. "Put your guard down. If he was gonna do something...you know you'd be dead already."

The Gangrel's attention focuses on Tybalt, his thumb tracing the metal of his gun "... Maddie, are you okay?" His voice has a protective sort of growl to it, drawing a twinge from deep in my chest. This is going to be a fun night. I swallow unnecessarily, before settling onto the carpet beside Tybalt.

Glancing up at Mongrel, I respond "I'm fine." before turning my concern to the plastered Lasombra at my side. His eyes are glassy, his expression distraught. Even the shadows are him seem to stagger and falter.

Tybalt looks very pointedly at the Gangrel. "Were you involved in it? They melted his fucking car. I can't even bury him because his ashes are fused to the metal."

I flinch, hoping Mongrel gives an answer that won't lead to bloodshed. "Who? Hanzel? No. I had nothing to do with that." He eases up from his crouch and allows his coat to drape again. The guarded snarl quickly faded into a joyous one as he flung himself at the Tybalt and pulls the seated Lasombra into an embrace, "It's true! You're alive!"

He visibly stiffens, pushing at Mongrel."Get. Off. What the FUCK makes you think I want to be hugged by Pyotr's personal fucking hatchetman?!" he snarls. He makes the attempt to stand. It doesn't work. Probably for the better.

"Easy Tybalt" I put my hand on his shoulder, exerting only enough pressure to keep him seated, while still offering consolation. Tybalt takes a deep, purposeful breath, and much to my relief, nods.

Mongrel looks hurt but detaches himself and stands, taking several steps back. His face becomes unreadable. "...fair enough." He looks me over, and I see through his attempt to keep his expression blank. I turn my eyes away from his concern.

Tybalt points a wavering finger at the Gangrel. "Don't go anywhere. I didn't text you to bitch you out for something you didn't do." I furrow my brow, looking to Tybalt as he continues."I'm a bit..."

Well, damn. I guess Tybalt snitched on me. "You texted..." I let my words trail off with a huff.

I can feel Mongrel's eyes boring into me, even before I meet his gaze. "So, you almost walked into the sun?" There is no emotion in his voice, and I can't help but sigh, loudly. I ignore Tybalt's off putting chuckle beside me, and give a non-committal shrug.

The laughter just as quickly leaves Tybalt's voice as he warns, "You need to get her out of town, Mongrel. The Russian is killing people for associating with me."

Both Mongrel and I disregard his words, continuing our stare down."Uhuh. And you are perfectly capable of taking care of yourself..." there is a tinge of anger in his voice but he retains his poker face.

I exhale loudly, grabbing Tybalt's bottle and taking a hefty swig. "I'm still alive, aren't I?" No thanks to..

I cut that thought off, pleased by Tybalt's brief distraction. "Ummmm...sure. Have a drink, Maddie."

I smile a little, replying "Thanks" I take another swallow from the bottle as Tybalt fishes his cigarettes from his pocket. I hold the bottle in my lap, watching him try to light one.

"Madre de noche..." he throws the lighter at me. "Light this damn thing. Wine tax." I scowl, but do so, keeping one hand wrapped around the neck of the wine bottle.

Mongrel turns a cool gaze to Tybalt, "You know that now that I know this I am obligated to kill both of you?" His voice falters on the last few words. His stoic face fails and all of his emotion shows through. Sighing heavily, he continues, "Which is why I could use one of those too." Mongrel goes into the kitchen and returns with a mason jar filled with clear liquid.

"Empty night... obviously I've had more than I thought I did." Tybalt shakes his his head, struggling to get his lighter back in his pocket. He looks to Mongrel as he reenters the room, "Yeah. Obligated." His words are bitter. I take another drink, feeling the tension in the room and shuddering."Get your head out of your ass, Mongrel. You're working for a fucking monster."

Mongrel crosses the room, sitting down against the wall and taking a sip from the jar, his voice is calm, "You know what, Tybalt. Go fuck yourself."

Great. Now they're slinging insults like a bunch of teenagers. I stare down the neck of the wine bottle, mumbling to myself."Oh...this should be fun."

Mongrel continues in an undertone, "I've had just about enough of the two of you- Tybalt and Pyotr. Fucking children sometimes."

Tybalt laughs again, that same, off-putting laugh. "A bit too late for that, don't you think? I'm pretty fucked already." The both of them continue, talking over each other.

"How's that? You're still alive, ain'tcha?"

"But do go on. Tired of us, you were saying?" I rub my face vigorously, their intertwining voices setting me on edge. Mongrel quiets down as Tybalt carries on. "... for now."

He's not wrong. I don't voice my opinion aloud. Mongrel's voice becomes soft, his eyes are sad, "This city is falling. I don't know how I-" Tybalt motions for me to pass the bottle. I pout, briefly, taking another sip before passing it over. He takes a long drink and sets it between us.

It's uncomfortably quiet for a moment. I sigh. "S'not the city that's failing...it's the people in it."

Tybalt looks to me, an almost insulting expression of surprise on his face. "Might be the most truthful thing I've heard in awhile."

My lips twitch up in a smile, remembering Pyotr's words. "I'm apparently shockingly insightful at times.."

Mongrel frets, "How are we suppose to survive against all that assails us if the clans are constantly at odds with each other?" He smiles at me, and all of the sudden my smile feels brittle. I drop my head slightly. "And you are very often insightful, Mad-" He flinches and takes a swig.

I sneak a glance at him from under the fringe of my bangs."Malkavian here, and I'm rarely at odds with anyone."

Mongrel speaks softly, "Peace offering?" He closes the lid on the jar and rolls it across the floor to Tybalt and I.

My head cocks to the side, Tybalt is whispering something, almost inaudible. "...out of...shut up...leave..." He doesn't seem to be speaking to either Mongrel or I.

Mongrel glances at him curiously, "Though it seems Mr. Tybalt is a bit uh..." I snap my gaze to Tybalt, watching him carefully. "Who are you talking to, Tybalt?"

He squeezes his eyes shut, hard. "Get the FUCK out of my head, you diablerist piece of shit!"

Mongrel stands, on guard again. I keep my eyes on the Lasombra, head cocked, almost feeling sympathy pains. "...only one diablerist piece of shit I know." I glance at Mongrel again, accusingly. "shoulda let me kill him."

Tybalt seems to get under control. "...the alcohol helps. It makes it easier for me to make him leave."

I look at Tybalt sympathetically. "...sucks not being alone in there, doesn't it?" From the corner of my eye, I see that Mongrel relaxes a bit and leans against the wall, arms folded.

He looks back at me. "There's one that I don't mind being up there, and if she knew how drunk I was right now..."

I smile, kindly, cutting him off. "...she'd probably understand."

He laughs again, and I'm relieved when it's a normal Tybalt chuckle. "Yeah. She understands everything else. Hanzel was teasing me about her for weeks. Apparently she was getting the same sort of thing from Marcus." He grins. "Everyone knew but us, apparently."

My return smile falters a bit, and I fight the urge to look at Mongrel."It's always good to have someone like that." Tybalt's eyes narrow, he doesn't miss the falter. Damn it.

From across the room, Mongrel clears his throat, "Well then, if Maddie isn't going for a walk in the sunshine any time soon and you're not on fire, I think I'll go. Sorry for the intrusion." His voice is gruff.

Before he can step away, Tybalt points to the Gangrel. "And thatsh why...madre de noche I did NOT just slur. That. Is. Why. I. Texted. You." I look down at the floor without a response. I don't want to hear this.

Mongrel pauses, "...pardon?"

Tybalt's voice is stern. Hardened. "Walking out that door is a poor decision, Mongrel. I'm not going to stop you from doing it, but I will tell you that it's a poor decision." I start getting that caged animal feeling, and fight the urge to dash off into the bedroom.

"And what... do you expect me to do?" Mongrel says through gritted teeth.

I slowly rise to my feet, mumbling something about my iPod, which is clearly sitting on the floor next to me. Tybalt's next question stalls me, and I can't help but flinch. "Do you love her?"

Mongrel is quiet for a moment. Too quiet. I know I should walk away. "What, have you taken up couples counseling, Tybalt?"

The Lasombra doesn't back down. "I've taken up not letting other people make dumb mistakes unless I don't like them."

Mongrel snarls and whips around, spitting his words at Tybalt. "DO NOT presume to know how I feel or... what is right for me." He looks to me, "...OR her."

I just want to disappear at this point. I stare at my feet, willing them to sink into the floor as Tybalt continues his tirade. "I'm pretty sure that things that lead to her wanting to get a suntan aren't really right. Just my opinion, but suit yourself."

I finally speak, keeping my voice low in attempt to hide the pain in it."Tybalt, just...It's OK. Just let it go. I've gotta...I'm just going to go...pee." I shuffle my feet forward few steps, knowing both men are watching me. "...fucking masochist." I mumble to myself before turning around and sitting back down.

The Lasombra raises an eyebrow slightly. I square my shoulders, lifting my chin in a pantomime of bravely that I don't feel. Mongrel growls and locks eyes with Tybalt, and they both grow silent. I note their concentration, and casually pick at the carpet. At least now I don't have to actually hear them talking about me like I'm not here. I catch Mongrel wiping at his eyes before he escapes to the kitchen with a quiet whimper. He returns with another jar of liquor, slumping against the wall with a burdened look upon his face. I twist the cord of my headphones around my finger, playing oblivious even as Tybalt walks over to Mongrel, offering his own bottle. He sighs, as they continue a conversation I can't hear. Fiddling with my iPod, it briefly switches on. A snippet of song pours into the silence.

 _"How can I just let you walk away, just let you leave without a trace_

 _When I stand here taking every breath with you, ooh_

 _You're the only one who really knew me at all"_

I click it off in a hurry, glancing up to see the pair's attention on me. Tybalt moves towards the door with a sense of forced casualty. "I think I'm going to go stretch my legs a bit, maybe burn some of this out of my system." I try to meet his eyes, shaking my head slightly. He ignores me, stumbling slightly. "Madre de noche. Ok, maybe more than some." He finally meets my gaze. "I'll be on the porch,"

Resting my elbow on my knee, I place my chin in my hand, feeling nervous. Mongrel waits until Tybalt is gone before asking in a quiet voice, "Why'd you do it, Maddie?"

I jerk my shoulders up into a shrug. "Didn't do it. Just...tried." For the first time that night, my name sounds comfortable on his lips. Some of the tension leaves my face.

"Want me to leave?... I won't tell anyone he was here." Christ. How the fuck does he expect me to answer that?

"You want honest, painfully honest or a lie?" I don't look up.

"...whichever you're willing to give."

I sigh. "No." I say quietly. Even quieter "...never."

His voice is sorrowful when he replies. "I can't save you, Maddie."

I finally look at him, keeping my gaze below his nose, not meeting his eyes. "Never thought you would." I never asked you to, either.

Mongrel continues, the pain in his words cuts me like a knife. "I'm making it worse by staying and trying to."

I almost want to stomp my foot in outrage. He really doesn't get it. Stupid Gangrel. I meet his eyes, speaking firmly. "Then why don't you stop trying to save me and just...accept that I'm going to have to save myself." I add on, as a grudging afterthought: "And double realize that I can't do that...without you." Guess I should start accepting that I can be saved, in the first place.

He looks at me in awe and giving me a small smile, "I know that now, Madelyn." Just as quickly, the smile is gone, "I know. I know. Which is why... I need to. Please." I tilt my head to the side, not understanding. Mongrel straightens up and collects himself, "Which is why I need to save myself for once." I furrow my brow, keeping quiet. "As I said before, I will be around if you need me, I won't betray you or Tybalt willingly. That's all I can offer you right now. If you say that you don't need saving, I will take you at your word."

I pull my knees up to my chest, wrapping my arms around them. I take what is likely a visible effort to attempt a smile before nodding at Mongrel. "Oh. OK. Sorry I...or, we dragged you into this."

He winces as he watches me, it's obvious he doesn't want to leave just yet. "You didn't."

I give a non-committal shrug. "Well, don't risk getting yourself in trouble for protecting us. It's probably inevitable that..." That I'll meet an untimely demise sooner, or later. "Just don't get killed cuz of me."

A momentary flash of light comes through the open door, followed by Spanish cursing, and the smell of burnt hair wafting into the room from outside. Mongrel chuckles briefly, "Too late for that." before rushing outside. I hear him inquire, "You alright? Tybalt?" and the sound of him stomping out a cigarette.

I stay seated, yelling towards the door. "Don't you mess up that blue!" My words are more jovial than my mood, and I angrily swipe tears from my eyes while the two speak, outside. Cocking my ear to the open doorway, I eavesdrop as I sniffle to myself.

Tybalt's voice drifts in, sounding forlorn. "No. No I'm not, Mongrel. I've got a Malkavian in my head making me do things I don't remember, a dead friend, a lover I'm scared to death for, another friend I'm worried about, and to top it off I can't seem to smoke correctly. I've had better nights."

Mongrel's voice trails in, just as downtrodden. "If it's alright with you both, I'd like to just spend time with you before I go. I don't know when I might see you again, especially if a certain Nosferatu manages to break into my head again... though I have put up some mental blocks."

Tybalt sighs. "In the end, all we have is this: people. People we care about. The titles and the status and the pretty words, they don't keep the beast at bay..." he pauses, "I'm rambling."

I hear a grin in Mongrel's voice as he replies, "Finish smoking and get in here, you ass."

The same smile is heard in the Lasombra's voice. "Tell you what. You can stay if you smack me when I start rambling."

They both wander in, Mongrel is smirking."Don't tempt me. Just might." I nonchalantly wipe my hand on my shirt, the dark smear of red is barely visible, to my relief.

Tybalt glances at me, "Oh, maybe you shouldn't. If anyone messes up her art project," he points to his head, "she might get mad at us."

I give a half smile. "I know you can't see it, but trust me, it looks great." We're all quiet for a moment, and I pick at the already threadbare carpet some more.

Mongrel breaks the silence."Alright well... since we have tonight, and I have you both for a bit..." He smiles at both Tybalt and I, sadly as though we might suddenly disappear.

Tybalt gets a thoughtful look on his face, and then asks, "Can either of you draw?"

Reminiscing, I answer, "I can't, unless you count those pictures on the wall when we were locked in your basement..."

The Lasombra snorts, wine dripping from his nose. I jerk my thumb over to Mongrel, as he answers,"I can."

Very quietly, Tybalt asks, "Would...you, please?"

Mongrel nods enthusiastically. "What would you like? My better sketch book is at...but I have another in my old room. Something of the two of you?"

Tybalt shakes his head, "...no. I just..." he sighs, "I want something to give to Test, before..." He looks away. I look at my friend sadly, before nailing him in the arm with a punch. "Ow." He rubs at his arm, looking surprised. I just shrug.

Mongrel walks from the room, I hear him shuffling around in the closet before he reenters with a sketchbook. He flips to an open page, settling down in front of Tybalt. "Ohhh... right. Well, hold still then. Tilt your chin a bit up? Yes." His pencil scratches against the paper, and the sound is soothing. I watch Tybalt at first, but I can't help when my gaze turns to, and lingers on Mongrel as he sketches, taking an occasional sip of moonshine.

The evening goes on in such a ridiculously domestic manner. Like three old friends...hell -like three Kine- even, we chat casually, only lightly grazing subjects that touch on the real problem at hand. Things like Tybalt being a wanted fugitive, and my aiding a criminal. Things like the fact that Pyotr will likely have all three of killed, come next sunset. Mongrel sketches, and Tybalt drinks, and for the time being, we're safe.


	39. Chapter 39

Dawn is approaching quickly. Too quickly. I'm not ready. As the first rays of sunlight start to graze the windowsill, I hastily retreat to the bathroom. I've had enough sunburn for now. I climb into the bathtub, curling my feet under me. I can only imagine how humorous this scene would be to an outsider. A pink haired seventeen year old tucked into a bathtub, clad in Cookie Monster boxers and clutching a K Bar like some would clutch a teddy bear. A riot, indeed. Now all I need is Serendipity to provide the laugh track. I growl quietly, wondering what the Malkavian has in store for me tonight. Maybe I'll be lucky and he'll be tormenting someone else. Him and his new friends. The Regent's warning flashes though my mind.

It overpowered me at every turn. If you come in contact with it and are not ready for one of the most desperate fights of your unlife, run...The Nightmares are coming. They are real.

Been living a nightmare since 1953. I should be prepared for anything at this point. I scoff aloud at myself. Such a brave kid. It overpowered Pyotr...what do you think is going to happen to you? "What's going to happen to me is going to happen, regardless. Do your worst 'Dipity. I'll repay in kind." My voice echoes against the tile, sounding less fearless with each reverberation. My eyelids feel heavy, my muscles are slowly relaxing out of their battle-ready tension.

As I'm drifting off, I swear I hear a faint voice. Familiar, but not one of my regulars. "...Madelyn...be alright..." What? Who is...is that Testament? And I'm asleep.

Or not. I snap awake as if someone slapped me. Strange. No one has, yet. The house is quiet in an almost unsettling way. I reflexively tighten my hand around the hilt of my knife...but...it's not there. I bring my palm up to my nose and give a hearty sniff. It was there, I did have it. I smell...I don't have time to finish my thoughts before they're interrupted by a bewildering sound. Tinny bells, like a child's toy or an ice cream truck. My brow furrows as I decipher the tune. Pop, Goes The Weasel. Pop, goes the reality, more like. In the rational point in my mind I know this is just a dream. A nightmare. One of 'Dipity's little games. And yet, there's still that absurd part of me that fears the worst. The ridiculously cheerful ditty is cut off mid-note. I hear the front door creaking open, and approaching footsteps. The footsteps are heavy, a strange noise accompanying them. Like someone dragging something behind them. I quietly rise to my feet, reaching above my head to unanchor the shower curtain rod from the wall. Better than nothin' I stand in the tub, brandishing the rod in front of me. Whatever it is out there, I ain't coming out. You want me, come get me yourself. I lean against the wall almost casually as the lurching steps continue down the hallway. Heh. Pussy. I think derisively. I hear a door down the hall open. What kind of big bad is afraid of a...A bloodcurdling shriek of agony pierces the air. "Mongrel!" I'm out of the tub, smashing through the door before rationality can stand a chance. Don't be stupid! He's not even here! You know it's not real! It's a trap, a lure! I snarl at my own thoughts, urging them to silence, replacing them with a chant of the Gangrel's name. The hallway is dark...unnaturally cold. Each step seems to take double the time before I reach Mongrel's bedroom. I kick open the door and reel back, choking on the reek of gore.

The walls, the furniture...spattered with blood and viscera. Sticky clots of it everywhere. I can smell the blood cooking on the ceiling light bulb. The sheets are sodden with vitae. And on the bed. On the bed...a scream tears from my throat.

A perfectly innocuous ceramic bowl. Condensation forms little droplets around the rim of the bowl. Inside is what looks like a generous helping of Neapolitan ice cream. Resting comfortably in the middle of the dessert, like a macabre cherry on a sundae...I scream again as I stare into the dead, empty yellow eyes. Mongrels blond hair is caked with blood and sticky melted ice cream. The stump of his neck leaks vitae onto the ice cream. What's a sundae without strawberry syrup?! I scream, you scream...we all scream. "NO!" I snap out of the impending hysteria, swinging around to identify whatever beast did this. Lurking in the doorway is a unsettling figure. Swathed in a yellow, polka dotted suit, chalk white face grinning at me from under a shock of red hair. My sight falls to the four, heavily muscled arms that dangle to the floor. My eyes bulge in stupefaction.

The monstrosity speaks: "Hey der, wittle girl. I made cha a snack!" With a battle cry, I run at the creature, brandishing the flimsy aluminum rod like a javelin. The almost hilariousness of my weapon is lost on me as I attack. One of the creature's large fists punch the rod from my hands. "Couldn't eat da big man or the crying man. Imma eat the wittle girl!" Little girl...I hiss in anger. The creature seems to flex, his frame swelling like a body builder on steroids.

I sneer, "...that's all?" It's torso seems to erupt as a mass of skeletal tentacles burst forth. It's jaw distends, mouth unhinging like a overgrown snake. I'm shaken a bit, but square my shoulders lifting my chin to stare down the beast that dwarfs me. "Try and eat me motherfucker. I hope I give you the shits." It responds with a throaty, demonic growl, lunging at me with it's tentacles, each ending in a snapping mouth full of fangs.

The towering beast is quicker than it looks. I throw a protective arm over my face as it viciously slashes at me. My skin rips open, fresh blood patters to the carpet. I grit my teeth against the pain and attempt to dart around the beast, hoping to attack it from behind. It's too big, too clever. I sense it rearing forward to wrap me in a deadly embrace and put on an extra burst of speed. I reach the other side of the room in a flash, hefting a nightstand over my head. As it rushes at me, I heave the nightstand at it. The flimsy wood shatters against it's body. Unhindered, the beast tackles me to the ground. I feel several ribs splinter, puncturing through my airless lungs. I cough through a mouthful of blood. In desperation, I thrust myself into the creature's mind. Mind? Does this thing even have a mind?! Like flicking down an emergency switch, I try to deaden it's emotions, perhaps it will submit enough for me to get the fuck away! I learn how useless the attempt is as the creature rips into me with it's tentacles. My shredded flesh sings in agony as I try to struggle out from under the titanic beast. I can feel my limbs turning traitor with weakness as the bony extremities bite and gnash. My blood pools under me, all the strength leaving me as I watch the beast raise his fists to snuff the last bit of life from me. I...tried..

A slow, purposeful clap starts up from behind the creature, halting its actions. "Oh good...an...audience.." I sputter out.

The familiar voice coos to the beast. "Tee hee, well done Squeaks, but give me just a moment." Serendipity comes into view, looming over me with his trademark grin. "Oh, don't mind me Maddie. Just need a few things from you!"

I cough out a snarky response. "Not surprised. ...needy...bastard."

Several tendrils of intangible inky lightning streak towards me. 'Dipity's voice resounds in my mind, inquiring: "What is the plan in place to destroy the Nightmare realm?"

I snicker, mockingly in my thoughts. "I'm not aware of a plan. No one informs me of plans. They say attack...and I'll attack." Especially if you're the target...

"Oh, so -simple- Madelyn." I growl under my breath. "Who in the Camarilla knows the most about the dreamworld?"

My thoughts mock him again, briefly settling on Testament. The Tremere seems to have more control...more understanding of this nightmare realm. "You know, Testament. Your...lost...friend?" I force my lips into a sneer, knowing it very well could be my last.

Serendipity pauses, staring blankly at me for a full minute before..."Enjoy your meal, Squeaks."

I use my remaining energy to shout at him. "You wonder why you're losing your friends Dip!?" This!

Bloody tears stream down his face as he replies manically: "Not at all!" The monstrous beast Squeaks. It's name is Squeaks! lowers its face, it's jaw stretching to an impossible size. It's hot, sickly breath washes over me as it's mouth envelops my head. I gag as I'm surrounded in it's putrid maw. I feel razor sharp fangs pierce my neck in a gentle semi circle, toying with me before biting down with a sharp...

The nightmare fades. Transforms. Morphs.

I'm in a church yard, staring at the starry sky. The moon hangs low, fat and bright in my view. I feel a cooling breeze wrap around my body, a low mist curling around my ankles. Glancing around in vague curiosity as stone grave markers begin to raise from the dirt, I feel my attention pulled in another direction. My hair twists in the breeze. Upon a hill, I watch as a stairwell breaks through. A mausoleum is birthed from the ground, a small brick wall surrounding it. Around the yard, a iron fence grows like hedges. The tips of the fence are topped with thick, sharp spikes. There's no gate. No entrance, no exit. More grave stones pop up from the earth. The names on them are unrecognizable but I know...I know...Those who have died. Died in the realm. The nightmare realm. The once empty church yard seems alive with it's new additions. As if it's all been waiting. Waiting in the ground to rise up and claim more lives. I hear the sound of children playing, their voices carried on the wind. An ethereal chill follows. There's no looming danger. No tangible threat. And still...my body dissolves into an uncontrollable trembling. An ascending roar of thunder rolls along the yard. There's no storm. That's not thunder...

I awaken with a start, subsequently bashing my head on the underside of the faucet. Gingerly touching my scalp, I feel precious vitae seeping from the point of impact. Am I? I am. I'm awake. The fresh liquid mingling with the blood already drying my hair into clotted knots. "What...the..." I scream in pain as a shudder wracks through my body. The scream morphs to a moan of panic as I set eyes on the damage. The porcelain of the bathtub is caked with my own blood. Streaks of it are drying on the walls of the tub. My legs are bent at unnatural angles, both shattered tibia tearing through the flesh in several spots. I stare, horrified and mesmerized by the fluorescent overhead light glancing off the stark white bones. I attempt to shift myself, grimacing at the pool of vitae sloshing in the bottom of the tub. The broken bones grate together in a nauseatingly painful way. Head spinning, I lean against the blood sticky wall. I still hear the faint sound of children playing, smell the loamy earth of the graveyard. With a shaking hand, I reach over the lip of the bathtub. Grasping my cell phone, I flip it open, thumb hovering over Mongrel's number. Between my misgivings from turning to him for help again, and the potential conniption fit he would have seeing me in this state, I snap the phone closed. Dropping it back onto the tile, I re-attempt to exit the bathtub. Weak from blood loss, I fall backwards, grabbing the shower curtain for leverage and pulling it off the rings in the process. Landing with a piercing shout, I watch the poppies of her blood bloom on the fabric as it settles into the tub. My eyes are threatening to slip shut again. Have to stay...awake. I think to myself, desperate not to fall into another nightmare. Leaning forward a bit, I poke at the sharp edge of the exposed bone. S'not gonna heal if I leave it like this. Pressing my hand against the shattered limb, I pull the skin back enough to wriggle the jagged edges of bone back against each other. A few skeletal chips break off, falling into the tub with a tiny splash. Blood flows from the lacerated skin, adding to the growing pool I'm seated in. I pause, catching my metaphorical breath. Suck it up, Mad. Can't very well feed until you sort yourself out. I catch myself wishing for some sort of comforting presence. If anything, just someone...someone...to offer alleviation against these physical...and mental, don't forget that...ailments. I glance at my phone again. Growling in anger, anger at myself, I grasp the second leg, forcing the bones into place with a hint of prenatural strength. The re-setting is effective, too much so. In my agitation I send another fissure down the center of the bone. My nerves feel aflame with agony. With a whimper, I sink low into the tub, pressing my cheek against the cold porcelain. I pant quietly, the pain keeping me awake as I concentrate on using my depleted vitae to knit the shattered bones, heal the tattered flesh. Serendipty. You'll pay. And if you didn't do this, I'll find out who did. They'll pay. My pain, everyones pain...in thrice.


	40. Chapter 40

I walk out onto the porch, sitting cross legged on the step even as the last rays of sun sink below the horizon. The fading light is just enough to sting at my skin. Just a brief scalding before the shroud of night takes over. Still weary, my body neglected of proper rest due to the influx of nightmares. I rub my arms and sigh, relishing the slight tenderness of my flesh. The surrounding woods are quiet. The wildlife avoiding the predator in their midst. I miss seeing the deer grazing, the occasional foxes straying from their dens. They don't come around now. Not since Mongrel left. Lookit that. You almost went a whole twenty minutes without thinking of him. Give the girl a prize! Rolling my eyes, I slip my cell phone out of my pocket. My call log is empty. I'm surprisingly relieved. At least that damn Litanny hasn't called, yet. That thought motivates me to turn the phone on silent. It has taken a mixture of extreme restraint and respect for Tommy to keep me from gnawing on the ghoul like an ear of corn. That, and the fact that the entire Giovanni clan would probably be on me like a pack of hungry dogs. I smirk a little. Respect isn't the same thing as fear, though.

What -do- I fear? Nothing that hasn't already came to fruition. Nothing that hasn't already been dragged, screaming through my own psyche. My maker. His constant tormenting rooted in my thoughts forever. The nightmares. Even 'Dipity is clever enough to know my Achilles heel. How many different ways can I lose Mongrel? How many different ways can he hurt me? Been there, done that. What am I AFRAID of?

Feeling.

I unwilling flinch away from my own thoughts. Don't shy away, Mad. You know that's what eating you. I'm becoming more human than monster. Were you ever truly a monster? "Could I ever truly be human again?" I squeeze my hands over my ears, trying to silence myself. Help. Can't anyone shut this up? I'm ashamed at how badly I crave a comforting presence. When did I become so...human..."human"...human. I clench my fists tighter against my head. Spiraling. Spiraling.

A pair of hands tighten on my shoulders. The tips of long nails digging into my collarbone. I recognize them. I don't pull away. Admit it, aren't you almost...relieved? I don't need to see his smile, I know it's there. My hands drop into my lap as I stare forward, waiting for the next series of events. Waiting for his command. A hand creeps across my throat, gripping solidly just under my jaw. I rise to my feet at his silent behest. He turns me to face him. "...I was wondering when you'd show up." I say in a small voice as I stare into my maker's steel gray eyes.

His grasp tightens hard enough to bruise. "You always come back to me, don't you monster?" Too weary. Too weary to fight him. To even WANT to fight him. So instead of fighting, instead of running. I cave. He releases his hand from my throat, and I willingly step into the circle of his arms. I still my shaking hands against his chest as he wraps me in an embrace. This shouldn't...I shouldn't... "Shhh." His long nails gently comb through my hair.

"Why..." Why are you here?

"Because you need me, monster. Don't you? You need me to show you how you're supposed to feel."

I whimper. "No, I don't want to feel..."

He smiles knowingly as his hand traces around my chest, palm resting where my heart once beat. "Not...feel." He pierces the skin with his nails, drawing blood. "Feel." The pain is cleansing, it seems to clear the din from my skull. My maker looks down at me expectantly. "Tell me, pet. What do you want?" Pain. Comprehensible pain. Make me forget how to feel. His mouth is on mine. His teeth sink into my bottom lip, his tongue lapping up the vitae that drips down my chin. "Speak to me." He growls, fangs stained red.

"Hurt me. I want you to hurt me. Please. Make me remember why I'm yours." Grinning triumphantly, my maker pushes me back against the porch railing. I stand still, hands to my sides, awaiting his lesson. I close my eyes at the sound of his knife sliding from it's sheath.

The bite of the blade on my skin. It tugs as it parts the flesh. The trickle of blood from each wound is more gratifying than any tears shed. He traces the blade up my stomach, cutting a path up and over each rib. The path continues up my neck, pausing at my mouth after it traverses my chin. His whisper is heat against my ear. "Clean it for me, monster." I part my lips as he slides the blade in between. Tasting my own blood on the steel. Salted, metallic...maddening. I let slip a small sound of wanting when he removes the knife from my mouth. He chuckles darkly, teasing the blade down one arm. Halting it's movement at the crook of my elbow. The tip of the blade twists in gently and I gasp. "...hmm?" My maker strokes his thumb under my eye, willing it open. I resist until the edge of his nail presses in, just enough to draw thin blood centimeters from my eye. Meeting his lunatic gaze as he penetrates the flesh of my arm further. My blood patters onto the wood at our feet. The pattering turns to a steady flow as he drags the blade down, opening my veins. I feel the light stroke of his tongue as he samples my vitae. It sends a dark chill down my spine. The knife roams down my body again, glancing off a hip, bearing down as it reaches the top of my thigh. He thrusts it into my skin to the hilt and the shock of it makes my knees buckle. There's the flash of anger as his hand clasps around my throat again. What am I...doing? Reality tries to creep in like a fog. "No you don't!" He snarls at me. "You're not ready, yet." His voice seems to be fading even as he pulls the dripping blade from my thigh. The blood is sheeting down my leg. "...monster. Stay...stay..." The strength runs out of me quicker than my blood as I fall onto the splintered planks of the porch. And I'm fading...

Dreams and faces. Nightmares. Horror. Pain and blood. Love. Friendship. Living. Living.

Coming to, I lift my head, wincing at the ache in my throat. My thoughts are near incomprehensible. Licking my lips, they're sticky with blood. I'm sticky with blood. Caked in it. It's all my own. Did I...black out? Rising shakily, I glance down at the drying pool of crimson at my feet. I rub at my eyes with the back of hand, smearing more blood. Confused, I take a few steps towards the front door, stopping when I catch my reflection in the window. My skin is stippled and streaked with red. Blood. It oozes sluggishly from a gouge in my thigh, a gaping wound on my arm. Various slices along my chest. Dried on my bottom lip and chin. A small tear-like drop under one of my eyes, both wide with grim astonishment. Dark purple bruises ring both sides of my neck. My gaze falls on my quivering right hand. My stomach clenches. Clutched in my fist is my knife. My trusty K Bar. Lathered with gore. Blood. My empty hand raises to cover my mouth against the rising bile. My knife. My hands. My...blood.


	41. Chapter 41

The bass of the music vibrates the floor under my feet. Eyes closed, I can still pinpoint the position of every breathing body in the club. The liquor laced vitae runs through my system, and I manage to lose myself in the ridiculously upbeat tempo of some new pop sensation. I continue to sway my hips in time with the beat, even as I sense the approaching Kine. He's thinking between my revealing attire and the look of glazed contentment on my face, it's a slam dunk. I feel him reach for me, and I catch him off guard when I spin around to face him. His look of surprise changes to pleasure as I caress my hands across his face, stopping them on either side of his jaw. The snap of his neck is quick, silent and unnoticed in the din of the club. Just as unnoticed as when I waltz his body over to one of the couches in a shadowy corner. I drop him onto the worn leather without a backwards glance. I'm about to rejoin the throng on the dance floor when I catch a glance of my reflection in one of the mirrors angled towards the dancers. Despite the booze, the distractions...it shows on my face. "No. I'm not dealing with this, now." I'm out one of the back doors in the slightest flicker of movement.

Clenching my fists, I stare down into the alley. Not seeing, but fighting down the thoughts that crawl into my brain and burn like bile. A hesitant voice pipes up from a propped open door. "Miss? Are you ok?"

I turn my face away, knowing the inquisitor will approach. Human nature. That fucking empathy. "I'm not ok." I meant for my words to come out harsh and snarky. The dismay I hear in my own inflection sends me into a frenzy. In flashes and bursts of color, I see myself smashing a middle aged man's face into the brick wall repeatedly. I hear the grating sound when his teeth crush against the mortar. The light spattering of blood from each impact. I watch it, seemingly detached from my own consciousness. The heavy thunk of his skull hitting the bricks. Like the sound of a ripe pumpkin tossed from a high window. By the time I drop the mostly pulverized body onto the concrete, I'm back in my own head.

My hands are shaking.

I wipe at my mouth with the trembling appendage, before staring at the blood splattered and smeared across my knuckles. Transfixed, I almost trip over the drained body of my victim. Somehow I stumble back to my car, my mind elsewhere as I drop into the seat, slamming the old Jetta's door. I glance at the chainsaw resting chummily in the passenger seat. For once, not bemoaning the lack of use I've gotten out of it. Instead, dwelling on the unlikely father figure who gave it to me. Before I can catch myself, my fingers are clenched tight around the steering wheel. At least they can't shake this way. Without warning, I feel the phantom comfort of the Brujah's hand on my shoulder. A hand strong enough to pop my head off without effort. Reassuring. Forgiving, even after my transgressions. Pyotr's bemused expression whenever he directed his attention to the mostly insane, troublesome, murderous teenager he treated like a daughter. Begrudgingly accepting the fact that I cared about the mountainous Russian, despite myself. Now. Another one gone. Yet another loss. Another loss.

My mournful sob reverberates into the night. The silence broken even as the sob is choked off, mid note. I pry a hand off the steering wheel and start the car. The drive home unhindered by the film of red periodically blurring my vision. I reach the empty but familiar house in the woods. I'm out of the car and up on the porch in a flash of motion quick enough to send the few crows on the railing scattering in a flurry of feathers. I block out the recollection the sight of the birds threaten to bring to the forefront of my already distressed thoughts. Curling onto the couch, I try to get a handle of my emotions. Emotions. The word is bitter with distaste. I can't shake it. The empty house holds no assuagement to the swirling crush of dysphoria. For the umpteenth time in this dragging month I pull my cell phone from my boot, tentatively browsing the names. Once again pondering the idea of reaching out to someone.

Simon. Too damn close to... Marcus. Lucy. Testament. Too busy with their new positions. Magnus. Pretty sure he actually hates me. Munin. The fearless viking doesn't need to be bothered with my trivial nonsense. Tommy. My expression goes hard. I can't pinpoint my feelings toward the priest. A friend...a murderer. The room seems to sharpen back into focus. My thumb caresses the call button on my phone as I simultaneously graze my other hand lovingly along the K Bar nestled snugly in my boot. Maybe I should have a talk with my Giovanni friend. I smile a little. Is this wise, Maddie? "Is anything I do wise?" Just a chat. Not a confrontation. Not a showdown. My inquisitiveness once again outweighs my self preservation and I impulsively place the call to Father Maletoni.

Each ring sets my teeth on edge. Finally I'm greeted by the priest's deep voice. "Father Maletoni."

I pause, keeping my tone tranquil. "...it's Madelyn."

Momentary silence. Then, "Hello, Madelyn. I trust this isn't about more training?"

Calm, Mad. Keep calm. "No. Do you have time to chat? Or is there a pressing assassination you're currently busy with?" I fail to keep the bitterness out of my voice.

Another pause, then a sigh."Perchance we should talk face to face. You deserve as much."

My fingers still caressing the hilt of my knife, I reply. "Good. When and where?"

"I'm not in my church, I'm out of town. I will meet you at midnight in Elysium. Is this acceptable?"

"Wonderful." I reply in a flat tone."And for the sake of my sanity..." Sanity? Ha! "..do -not- bring Litanny with you." I say, with the barest hint of ill humor. The line goes dead. I flip my phone closed, tossing it onto the table in front of me. Removing my other hand from it's comforting position on my Ka Bar, I rest my head on my clenched fists. My mind flickers through conflicted thoughts and memories of my Giovanni friend and his murder of the seemingly indestructible Brujah. I rise, and prepare to make my way to the club. I glance at the twin crossbow pistols Mongrel gave to me, but dismiss the idea of bringing them. As if I could even entertain the notion of successfully seeking revenge.

The drive to Elysium passes almost unnoticed by me. Getting out of the car, I pointedly avoid looking towards my beloved chainsaw. Let's not start things too confrontational. I walk through the entrance at 11:45. I spy Tommy sitting at the bar, the empty socket of his right eye covered by a innocuous mask. His squadron of Mafiosos flocked close by the priest. Should of known he'd be here early. A murderer with impeccable etiquette. I sigh and approach him silently, taking the stool to his left. Knowing anyone with even slight observation skills could see through my blank facade that barely camouflages the whirlwind of turmoil I'm sure shows through my eyes, I fold my hands on the bar top and stare ahead. Movement, as Tommy pours a draft of whatever he's drinking into a second glass, passing it to me in silence. Reaching for the drink, my hand trembles. I growl quietly at myself, hoping the priest doesn't notice. Wrapping my hand around the glass firmly, I pinch the bridge of my nose with my other hand. Calm. Calm, Maddie. "I'm sorry."Tommy's voice reaches me through my own thoughts. I feel the gaze of his remaining eye centering on me. "There's no excuse you'll accept, but I did what I needed to do." He continues, taking a sip from his glass. In my desperation to pull from my own mixture of emotions I send a stream of awareness into Tommy's mind. Like dipping a toe into a pool to test the water. There's a hefty amount of satisfaction, floundering under guilt and a familiar emotion. Loneliness. I pull back into my own thoughts with a start. That's the last thing I wanted to feel. The anger and need for vengeance wavers and I curse my own empathy. Tommy turns his chair to face me, and in the corner of my eye I see him dismiss his lackeys with a wave of his hand. I let out a shaky sigh and down the drink in front of me in a single gulp. Liquid courage. I twist my chair to return Tommy's gaze, and expectant look on my face.

"Do you care why he's dead?"

I raise my eyebrow at the priest. "...yes." I respond, almost begrudgingly. I wish I didn't care.

"You remember Hanzel's ghoul, Gretel?"

A ghost of a smile touches my lips. "Who could forget?"

"Do you know what became of her?"

"I know she's dead. I'm rarely graced with the information such as why or how."

Tommy smiles, "I was made aware by the former regent that it was he that killed her." His smile is forced, not reaching the remaining eye.

"I'm sure Pyotr killed a lot of people." I reply, indifferent.

"Indeed, he did. I would have little issue if Gretel was not mine to marry."

I cross my arms, leaning back to level a bemused expression at the priest. "I happen to know Pyotr had a tendency to take a lot of things that didn't belong to him." I say bitterly, fighting to keep my head clear.

"I suppose you would. I had no love for the woman, but she was a gift from friends." He pauses to breathe deeply."I do not care for those who break my things."

I find myself feeling almost indignant. "So. You killed him because he...broke your toy?" I fail to keep the hint of a growl out of my voice.

Tommy shakes his head hard enough for his cross to swing about his neck."He was an evil and brutish man. I would not let him be a danger to those around him for any longer. I just needed to wait for Franco's order." His voice raises in volume. "I wish I could have been there.

His one eye stares me down."Have you ever taken the time to look at the face of your victims?"

This change in topic rattles me. I feel my composure slip, the strain and hysteria that always bubbles beneath the surface showing through. "Yes. I have. Everyone, every time. And unlike most, the vision doesn't end after their death." Haunted by my own monstrosity. "This is irrelevant. I was hand fucking crafted into the monster I am." I say through gritted teeth. "Pyotr wasn't any more of a monster than most of the Kindred in Baltimore. Like myself, for example." I fight the urge to curl into my defensive position.

"We are only as our makers forged us. That, I will not dispute with you." He continues. "But he was not a monster, he was a force of nature. He was much like Serendipity. Unpredictable. Brutish. Destructive."

I clench my fists with a growl, no longer camouflaging the snarl in my voice. "And who picked you to be judge, jury and executioner? You seem to be headed down your own destructive path, Tommy."

He chuckles, looking down at his rings."I've noticed that, myself." Abruptly, his face appears calm and serene."Where is your chainsaw? Will the new Regent let you keep it?"

A flicker of pity crosses my face. Looks like I'm not the only one spiraling into self destruction. I wipe my face clear of emotion. My response is dripping with sarcasm. "It's around. And I can't imagine why he wouldn't."

Another chuckle from the Giovanni."I don't think he could take it if he tried."

"Don't patronize me." I fail to keep a small smile from my face.

"I wouldn't dare."A returned smile."You know, I never washed away your painting in my temple."

I snicker to myself, remembering the obscene scrawlings I painted in blood during one of my Potence lessons. "Good. It's a one of a kind." Even better than the ones I left in Tybalt's basement not too long ago. My face turns serious. "Not like that will matter if your church is blown up. You know this will turn into a war, don't you?" My thoughts hover around the previous night's unsettling phone call with Curtis, Pyotr's ghoul and son.

"It will not. The Giovanni have already considered a war, but have found it would be less profitable than allowing the Camarilla to exist here." Tommy responds, matter-of-factly. "Also, the Sabbat are poor."

I raise my eyebrow and quickly down another drink. "You Giovanni don't overestimate yourselves at all..."

"You see the Giovanni as the small group here. And although we are all well loved by our people, we are but a small arm. We've already secured a large force to invade if we require it. Pyotr knew this, but chose not to heed it. My people want to leave well enough alone. We want to sit by and do our work without the Camarilla forcing our hand." He shakes his head, pouring another drink for the both of us. "But you, Madelyn, are a friend of ours. Myself, specifically."

I empty the glass, ever the over indulger. "A friend." Rubbing my face vigorously, I respond. "He was like a father to me." I hate the pain in my voice. Tommy reaches for my shoulder. I don't pull away from his touch, but flinch a bit, conflicted by the need for vengeance versus the need for solace. "I came here because I kind of wanted to kill you." I admit.

"I understand that need." He says honestly, squeezing my shoulder comfortingly.

I unsuccessfully try to keep the look of content from my face. The need for assuagment turns my expression to shame. Eyes downcast, I mumble to myself. "...fuck..."

Tommy takes his hand from me."I'm sorry, you looked like you needed it."

I curse the void the lack of contact brings. Still mumbling. "...so much easier when I didn't give a shit about anything." Then, in a regular albeit hesitant tone. "It's...ok." I sigh, shaking my head almost imperceptibly. "I should never drink alcohol." I counter my own words by pushing my empty glass towards Tommy, gesturing for him to fill it. I look away while he replenished to booze and blood mixture. What has happened to me? When did I become such a... I cut my thoughts off, refusing to admit to myself that I'm not as far from humanity as expected. "Well, I'm not going to try to kill you." The words almost taste bitter in my mouth.

Tommy smiles again."I'm sorry for your loss, Madelyn."

I lean against the bar, propping my elbow on the counter, my chin in my hand. "Loss is nothing new to me." I glance at the priest, expecting him to take his leave. "Thanks, I suppose, for taking time to talk to me. I imagine you have things to attend to. Money to count. Corpses to violate..." I snort laughter.

He chuckles."I'm not sure I'm that I've any dead to violate. I'm trying to take it easy on the killings."

Yeah. That. Lucky you. "Heh. Yeah, I tried that for a bit. Unfortunately that left me without a reprieve from my..." I squeeze my eyes shut, briefly. "...myself."

"I'm sorry, I don't understand."The concern in Tommy's eye seems sincere.

I tap my head with my free hand. "Not many other ways to escape from in here."

His hand returns to it's ashamedly comforting spot on my shoulder. "I fear a bar may have been inappropriate for this discussion."

Despite the slight spinning in my brain, I wave a hand dismissively. "It lowered the temptation to bring my chainsaw." I smirk. "...although it is in my car."

A light laugh, and Tommy takes my hand in his. "You're terrifying, you know that. Correct?" His eye betrays no fear and seems to peer deeply

I cast my eyes down, staring at his hand on my own forlornly. "Yeah. I know." For once, there doesn't seem to be pride in my voice.

He squeezes my hand tightly in his cold, pale fingers. "Do you want to be terrifying?"

I keep my eyes down. "Sometimes I'm not so sure."

In my peripheral vision, I see Tommy look up, presumably at his collection of wraiths circling the ceiling. "It's overrated." His hand moves to the back of my neck, stroking gently. "I'm sorry for making you lonely."

Oh, god. I've missed this contact so badly. Before I can help myself, a contented sigh escapes my lips. "You're not really to blame."

Tommy mutters something under his breath, forcing his wraiths out of the bar. "I may not be fully to blame, but I took your adopted father from you. I need to make that up to you."

I look at him quizzically. "You..." my brow furrows "No you don't. I can take care of myself." I fear my facial expression gives this away as a blatant lie. My facade has officially slipped. Why the fuck did I have to drink so much?

"I can't hope to bring him back, but there has to be something I can do to kill the pain." the priest insists.

"I've tried a few things to kill the pain. I've so far been unsuccessful. Maybe this is just how I'll have to atone for being such a monster. Pain. Loss. Loneliness." My thoughts are centered on the cool comfort of Tommy's hand on my skin. Nope. No way.

I abruptly jump up from the bar stool. Stumbling a bit, I sputter out: "Y'know I should probably...go or..." I rub my face again.

"Do you have someone to drive you? Last thing we need is a breach of the masquerade. I'd have to hunt you down." He stands and places his hand on my lower back in attempt to stabilize me.

I scoff. "I'm the Scourge, I'd have to hunt myself down..." Trying to keep my head clear, I respond. "And I have my car."

"That won't work, if a cop finds someone appearing as young as you with alcohol under their breath? I'll have my men drive you." He scrutinizes me. "And myself. I'll have to make sure you get home alright."

Cops. PFFT. "Well then I'd kill them." I say, baring my teeth in a smile. I lean against the priest's muscular chest. "And while I may be able to cast aside any misgivings about you...I'll be damned if I'd trust your men knowing where my haven is."

He seems to come to a conclusion. "I have a better idea." Hands about my waist, he bravely pulls me out of the club.

I huff indignantly, but offer no resistance. "I'm kind of impressed. You're one out of very few people who have ever risked man handling me. And even fewer who have risked handling me at all."

"I've seen what you can do to someones body. If you wanted to, you would have broken me already." He smiles down at me. "I taught you some of that, remember?"

"Good point." A realization crosses my distracted mind. "Um." I halt our progress." I should probably not leave my chainsaw in my car. On the passenger seat. In plain view." I make a face.

"We'll have Marina drive your car."A tall and fit woman in combat gear approaches, extending her hand to me."Your keys, Lady Scourge?" she asks with a light tone.

Oh, hello. Why does Tommy have such tasty ghouls? "Yum. I mean...um..." I sheepishly hand my keys to the woman. "Here."

Marina smiles and takes the keys, briefly tracing her fingers my wrist. Then, with a flourish, walks away. Fuck. I hope I'm not drooling.

Tommy whispers down to me. "I wouldn't suggest trying to eat that one. She'll never let you stop."

HA. "They usually don't have a choice as to if I stop..." Marina's ears prick up at my words and she looks over her shoulder, her face seems hungry, but with frightened eyes. I'm distracted for a moment, looking at the ghoul with more than my average look of ravenous hunger. Almost as if I hunger for something more than a kill.

Tommy's voice breaks me out of my lull."Ready to go, Madelyn?" He says through the open car door. I climb into the back of the dark vehicle.

My entrance is stumbling and graceless, thanks to the influence of the liquor. I compose myself, smoothing my skirt back down my legs before angling my body to face the one eyed priest. "That must hinder your depth perception a bit." I say, referring to the eye patch.

"Thankfully, I have wraiths that can see for me. Even greater is my thanks that some things can be seen without two eyes." There's a strange, but recognizable inflection in his tone. His eye rests its gaze on my neck. My skin seems to tingle under his steady stare. I incline my head to the side slightly, my hair falling behind my shoulder. Smiling innocently, knowing the sparkle of mischief is visible in my face, I reply"I bet."

He moves towards me, and his stare is replaced by the feel of his fangs pressed gently against my flesh. Oh. This is...a change of pace. I feel his cold breath against my neck as he breathes in my scent. Oh. I grow still, my own breath seeming to catch in my throat. My hand moves hesitant towards him, coming to rest against Tommy's chest. My other hand stays to the hem of my skirt. Idly, almost shyly toying with the fabric. The pressure of his fangs are replaced by cool lips that kiss my neck gently. He holds my head with one hand, the other he places against mine on his chest, slowly digging his nails into the back of my hand. He speaks, breath tickling my skin. "We're almost there." I non-chalantly hike my skirt up a few inches before wrapping my hand around the back of his neck. Twisting my fingers in the priest's dark hair, I pull his face away from my throat, bring it close to my own. Widening my eyes and smirking a bit, I speak quietly. "Are we?" Both of his hands grasp my waist as his mouth makes it's way to mine. As if on some sort of undesirable cue, the car squeals to a stop.

The driver's lighthearted voice chimes from the front seat "We're here, sir. Will you require my assistance, further?" Tommy shakes his head, staring intently at me, his eye filled with a need and hunger.

Strangely enough, feeling a similar need throughout my own body, I run my tongue slowly and purposefully over my bottom lip. "Where is here, Father Maletoni?" I ask, quietly.

"Luxury, my Lady Malkavian.

Tommy keeps eye contact with me as he steps out of the car. Once outside, I accept his offered hand and climb from the seat. I return his gaze, pointedly not looking at my surroundings."Seems a bit more accommodating than my empty shack in the woods."

The Giovanni looks shocked. "You live, where?"

I follow his lead to the door, rubbing my thumb across his palm and honestly reply: "Shack is a bit modest, I suppose."

He frowns at the statement as he leads me to the elevator. "I enjoy modestly in life, but in undeath...we deserve the simple comforts of luxury."

Easy for a Giovanni to say. My thoughts are distracted by the feel of his nail dragging against my flesh. I shiver almost imperceptibly. We enter the elevator and I lean casually against the wall. "It's what I have.." I try not to sound ungrateful. "...besides. Luxury can be found in other ways." I let the corners of my lips curl into a smile.

Tommy leans his arm against the wall behind me. Angling towards my body, he inhales deeply, seeming to analyze my scent. "For instance?"

Biting my lip and peering up at the priest through the fringe of my bangs, I find my craving for contact maddening. I need... I curl my hand into his waistband, pulling his body flush against mine. "Creature...comforts."

He presses a key on the wall without taking his gaze off of me. "I suggest a compromise." His hands grip at my hips, squeezing tightly.

"Compromise?" I fail to keep the pleased whimper from my voice.

He breaks eye contact, bringing his cold lips to my ear. "Physical comfort, accentuated with the luxuries only a heavy wallet could procure." I feel his fangs grazing the ridge of my ear.

Tilting my head back as I snake my left hand over his chest, I follow along his throat before settling my fingers along the priest's collarbone, digging my nails in ever so slightly. "Perhaps one of the most generous compromises I've ever been offered, Father Maletoni." My right hand tightens on his waistband.

As Tommy's lips close in on my own, a bell rings and the elevator opens, revealing a penthouse style lounge, over looking the Camden Yards stadium. "Welcome to my current haven, Lady Madelyn."

Well, this really does make my house look like a shack. I glance wide-eyed around the lavish room. Wiping the impressed look off my face, I smirk as I return my gaze to Tommy. "How quaint." He moves quickly, grabbing a handful of my hair and exposing my neck with a brisk pull. His lips meet my throat and his hand slips down my spine to rest at the small of my back. A gasp escapes my lips and my fingers tighten on his shoulder hard enough to draw blood. I arch my back under his hand, pressing my hips against his. At the drawing of his blood, he slides his hand down my thigh. His fingers pull my skirt up my legs and higher as a deep growl issues from his chest. Mmm, there it is. There's his beast. I smile, trailing my hand along his inner waistband, gently exploring the cool skin before settling on his belt. Unnaturally quick, I unbuckle it and whip the belt through it's loops, discarding it on the floor at his feet. Making sure his eyes are still on me, I bring my other hand between us, to my lips. The tips of my nails are lightly painted in his blood. Keeping eye contact, I luxuriously lick the crimson fluid from each fingertip. He watches the blood meet my lips and with a growl, he lunges forward, latching his mouth to mine. His hand presses against the back of my head, preventing escape from the kiss. Relishing the feel of Tommy's cold lips against my own, I exhale a quiet moan into his open mouth. Nipping at his tongue, I pluck open the button on his pants, teasing my finger along the teeth of the zipper. Tommy's slides his suit jacket down his muscular arms, dropping it on the floor to join his belt. His hand returns to my chin as he grazes his front teeth over my bottom lip. I reach up to the collar of his shirt, gently loosening his tie before jerking the sides of his shirt open hard enough to send the buttons flying every which way. I run my nails down the smooth skin of his chest, stopping to hook my thumbs under his waistband, gently tugging the pants downward.

A smirk crosses the priest's face. "No no, dear Madelyn. I'll not be caught less dressed than you." His fingers once again hike my skirt to my waist, then pull my ridiculously chaste panties down to my knees. Tommy leans downward, keeping his eye on me as he pulls the lace fully down my legs to the floor. I reach down and grab his tie, wrapping the fabric around my fist and bringing him to his feet. I graze my fangs along his neck teasingly before abruptly turning around. Tommy's tie still in my hand, I move further into the penthouse, pulling him behind me. He rushes forward and fiercely grasps my hips. His mouth meets my neck and I feel his sharp, extended fangs prick my collar. "You shouldn't turn your back to me, Scourge."

I halt my progress, stiffening a bit. Releasing his tie, I place a hand on either of his wrists, squeezing lightly. Not turning to face him, I respond. "And why is that, Father? I hold no fear of you." I can almost sense his smile from behind me, and I feel his hand on my back, gently pushing me towards the window overlooking the field. I smirk to myself, showing a bit of resistance. "Oh, I'm sorry, am I hindering your progress?" Laughing a little, I continue. "Is it a Giovanni thing? Needing to control all situations?"

A deep chuckle from the priest."If I gave you some control, would you know what to do with it?"

I lean against him, aware that for once my physical age must be apparent. "No. I probably wouldn't." A brief burst of laughter escapes me.

His lips meet my ear, breathing heavily."Should we see what happens?"

I turn to face him in a quick movement. Running my tongue along one of the scars on his mouth, I respond "Should we?" I draw his bottom lip in between my teeth, giving it a sharp bite.

Tommy reaches down, prodding and teasing me through the fabric of my skirt. He presses his fingers against my inner thighs and grips them tightly. "I think so. It may break me of my need for..." He brings his fingers up quickly against my lips. "Control."

I growl quietly, nipping at his fingers, my hand reaching down under his pants to grip him tightly. "I'm certainly proficient at breaking people." My lips curl into a smile under his fingers.

He shudders, leaning an arm against me."I can see how, Lady Maddie." My smile freezes. His eyebrows raise as he smiles a devilish grin. "I'm sorry, did I say 'Maddie?'" Tommy really is self destructive. My eyes widen and I snarl at the priest. Removing my hand from below his waist, I wrap my fingers around his throat roughly, nails digging in. Staring intently into his eye, I force him back towards the dinner table. He stumbles, seeming amazed by my strength, but unafraid. Moans fill his chest and he grips my wrist near his neck. I stop as we reach the table. Squeezing his throat enough to draw blood once more, I shove Tommy down onto the polished wood. Staring at him from the foot of the table, I curl both hands around his waistband, dragging the pants down his legs. Pausing to take in the sight of the priest's pale skin, I leap upon the table. A foot on either side of his waist, I smirk down at Tommy. I bend at the knees, squatting over Tommy, not touching him. I rest my elbows on my thighs, chin resting on my linked hands as I continue staring, a half smile upon my lips. The Giovanni seems shocked to find himself on the table. He smiles tentatively as he attempts to be snarky. "Was that a bad idea to say?" He looks nervously around the room.

"That depends, Father Maletoni. My normal reaction may differ due to my current state of mind." I lower myself so our bodies touch.

Tommy reaches between us without hesitation, feeling the bare flesh between my legs."And what is this state of mind, Lady Maddie?"

"Needy." I respond with a growl, moving hips against his hand.

He follows my hips motions with his fingers, sliding in and out and over my most sensitive areas."You have an interesting idea of control, Lady Malkavian. Are you sure you're as horrible as they say you are?" He leans up and kisses my cheek playfully.

I moan in a subdued way and put a hand on the back of his neck. Lips brushing his earlobe, I whisper "No. I'm some ways I'm really not." Turning his face to mine, I lock my mouth onto his in a fierce kiss. He matches the movement of his tongue to that of his fingers, pumping as he kisses her hungrily. I can feel a moan coming deep from his chest. I remove my hands from him only long enough to pull my shirt over my head and toss it to the floor. Replacing my hand on the back of his neck, I turn his face to the side, grazing my fangs along his throat teasingly. My other hand moves between them, positioning Tommy's hardness at my entrance. Both of his hands return to my hips, as he pulls with all of his strength to enter me. He seems to be resisting the urge to bite down, but tears into my hips with his nails.


	42. Chapter 42

"Ever haunted by the trappings of this life."

I remember driving up the wooded path to home. As usual, my mind was on auto pilot. Thoughts bounced within my mind. Thoughts of that blue haired whore, Tommy and his warning against instigating a fight with the Master. Most prominent was the slow debilitation of the already frayed grip on sanity and humanity. It wasn't until I stepped out of the car, in the mere seconds before the ritual that paralyzed me, that I sensed the presence of hostile Kindred. Not even enough time to place a call of rescue to Tommy, Simon...any of my allies. Not like I would.

"Sweet redemption just in front of me."

I knew I would die before the attacks started coming in earnest. The pain didn't phase me, and strange enough the fear didn't either. At first. Perhaps this will be my release. Finally, what I sought since my maker tore me from my home and started my tortuous journey into the world of darkness. I felt as if I was coming to terms with all the pain of my sixty plus years. Freedom, if forced freedom. Maybe this is the only was I could reach it..

"Well now, it seems once again that I've lost another One of the ones that have broke through the wall."

Things were calm after it was over. Seeing through unveiled eyes, death didn't seem nearly as frightening as I expected. Where is the hell and torment I've undoubtedly earned? I don't know where I am. It's quiet, out and inside of my head. Surprising, yet I remain unalarmed. My back is free of my chainsaws comforting weight. There's no hunting knife nestled snugly in my boot. My feet are bare. The cream colored dress that adorns me is clean. Clear of the usual gore and bloodstains. I feel at ease, despite my lack of weaponry. Is it possible? Have I come upon a version of...heaven? A light breeze picks up and carries with it a recognizable scent. I glance ahead and smile. "Hello, darlin'." Law, the foreboding, yet kindhearted tiger who took me in and loved me despite my insanity. The one I left when I realized I couldn't return his affections. He holds his arms out, beckoning me to him. Without hesitation I run into his embrace. He picks me up without effort, swinging me in a circle. I let out unfamiliar, joyous laughter. His gold eyes stare up at me with the love I never could accept, and for once, I don't shy away from it. He sets me down with a smile. Law's hand graze the side of my face gently, and I feel his lips press upon my forehead in a kiss. "Missed you, Mad." I hold my hand against his. "I missed you too, Law." My words are sincere. "Law, I'm sor.." Placing a finger to my lips he silences me. "Shh. It isn't about me, darlin'" He points behind me. "Someone else is here to see you." Curious, I follow the line of his gesture and set eyes on...

The Gangrel lets out a grunt as I leap upon him. His laughter is music to my ears as I bury my face in his tan trench coat, inhaling his scent, sighing when I feel his lips brushing kisses into my hair. "Maddie." I can hear the smile in Mongrel's voice. When I finally meet his eyes, they're filled with crimson tinged tears. "Mongrel. My Mongrel. I've been so lost without you." Speaking the words aloud don't bring me the sorrow I expect. My own eyes spill over with tears, but they're clean, human tears of bliss. Mongrel cradles my face in between his hands, his lips grazing my brow, the bridge of my nose. Meeting my lips in a long mislaid kiss. I run my fingertips across his face, re-familiarizing myself with the contours of his visage. Lips breaking from mine, Mongrel smiles. It's the genuine, loving smile I crave. "You're always in my heart, Maddie. I love you." Without trepidation or hesitation, I reply. "I love you, Mongrel." I hear a low murmur from behind us. Glancing over his shoulder, I see the unbreakable mountain of a Brujah, and the wiry, lithe Lasombra. I switch my gaze back to Mongrel, not wanting to walk away from his arms. He pets my hair, still smiling. "Go, deary. They're here for you."

I approach Pyotr, unafraid despite the impassive look on his face. I give him the charming, appeasing look that always won the towering Brujah over. He pulls me into a firm hug, lifting me off my feet. His voice is warm, the thick Russian accent enhancing his words. "Madelyn, my daughter. Such a little firebrand." Our laughter melds together. His deep and booming, my own light and soft. A purposeful clearing of the throat makes me turn around. Tybalt faces me with his trademark raised eyebrow. I grin and wrap my arms around him. "Still my favorite Malkavian." he says with a smirk. "Damn, right." I reply, matter-of-factly. Tybalt gently pushes me towards what appears to be an awaiting throng of Kindred. "All for you, Maddie." I walk past all my friends and allies. Marcus squeezes my shoulder as I pass. I hug Lucy, smiling at the Toreador as she kisses my cheek. I return Fate's mischievous grin as she high fives me with a shadow arm. Magnus gives me a respectful nod. Passing Tommy, he takes my hand, bringing it to his lips and kissing the knuckles. "Lady Malkavian." All of those who were tethers in my un-life. The ones that helped my sanity from slipping completely. If this is how everything comes to an end...

I smile a genuine smile, feeling the long lost emotions I constantly struggled to fight off. I close my eyes for the briefest of moments, savoring it. There's a disconcerting lurch in my subconscious, and I open my eyes to a taste of the horror I expected. An escaped whimper of fear when I see what replaces my pseudo heaven.

"Damned Fate won't compromise I have sold my soul, and now the devil's laughing."

A dead, mouldering world seemed superimposed over the one I came to know. Ghostly figures and unknown shapes attempt to accost me, shrieking for penance I can't offer. I shrink back from each grasping, clutching hand. They want me, they want my soul...they want my everything. I'm running in the familiar, yet terrifyingly altered streets. The sound of my feet slapping the concrete doesn't drown out the phantasmal moaning. They need me. No. They can't have me. Even dead, beaten and defeated, I'm not submitting. Without a conscious decision, I head in a set direction. There's something I'm here to do. I repeat the words like a mantra to block out the voices. A well practiced routine.

"You were bold and strong, and ready to begin your life. All for nothing, you were sacrificed You began alone, and so it will be when you die All for nothing, will you be remembered? You did decide."

I don't know where I've ended up, but everything in my being let's me know I'm were I need to be. It's a secluded house. Older, but with a sense of luxury that's almost unexpected. While I don't recognize the building, the setting itself is familiar. A momentary skip in reality and I'm in the house. There's a figure hunched over a writing desk. I haven't set eyes on the corporeal version of this figure for so long that I'm too take aback to feel joy or sorrow. I silently circle around, and see the recognizable blond mane falling over those sad yellow eyes. Things seem to fall into place. I'm dead. Still dead. Actually dead. This is my...after. No extensive torture, yet no peace. I look down at the Gangrel. He's sketching, just like he used to. He was away for so long and here he is, just like yesterday. I watch him intently. I wonder. I take a few steps forward. There is no audible sound from my movement, not even a displacement of air. He probably wouldn't even notice me unless I...

"Mongrel."


	43. Chapter 43

Leaving the cabin with the same faint resentment I've grown used to, I head towards a small town I've not yet wandered. Night by night, I try to find something to distract me from the sorrow that often hangs about both Mongrel and Law. Even worse, the elation Mongrel expresses when his dearest Sasa is around. Rage smolders in my gut and I walk faster, before someone decides to act on my anger without my consent.

As usual, the landscape in my immediate view is lifeless and bleak as, well...me. A moldering cemetery and yard alert me to the presence of a church. I walk between the crumbling old tombstones, pausing here and there to peruse the aged inscriptions. Broken pews and collapsed bookcases pepper the inner space of the church. I spot a few leaflets on the ground. Picking one up, I smirk at the antiquated racist propaganda. I pocket the leaflet with a sigh. Nothing much for me here. Despite my boredom, I perch on the corner of a crumbling pew. A whisper of choir song reaches me across the shroud and I wince from the sound. It's shortly followed by the sound of unseen seats around me filling with live bodies. Apathetic, I focus my gaze on the source of the sound, seeing across the shroud. I set eyes on a few dozen dark heads facing away from me. They all have their attention on a slender black man in a suit and glasses. I snort aloud, the irony of the pamphlet in my pocket not missing me. "Lord, you are so good!" The preacher shouts.

In reply, the choir sings "So good to me, Lord!"

I shake my head, realizing this is far from my scene, and rise from my seat to head to the door. As I head back out to the cemetery, I hear the skinny preacher shouting an introduction, "Lord, we got a good one for you to-night. Yes yes yes yes, we gotta good one. Father, as seen on T.V., Thomas Maletoni!" Holy shit.

At mention of the familiar name, I slowly turn to face the pulpit, my eyes wide and disbelieving. Father Maletoni stands in front of the congregation, black suited and unchanging from last time I saw him a decade ago. The crowd seems taken aback by the Catholic priest in their midst, but none more so than I. Walking between the pews, I find myself seated once again. Tommy shakes the deacon's hand and ask the crowd to stand and join him in prayer. I shake my head in derision. Still keeping up appearances. That's Tommy, all right. As everyone around me rises, I notice a vaguely familiar young man, clearly on my side of existence. Innocuous enough in jeans and a sports coat, I still feel the need to make myself scarce. I glance towards Tommy, and loneliness wins over self preservation. After a moment the young man takes notice of me and approaches my pew. "Is this seat taken?"

I stare at the young man, fighting the urge to answer sarcastically. "Um.." I press my lips together and shake my head, gesturing to the seat next to me.

The young man sits and speaks in a low voice. "Have you seen him perform before?"

I glance towards the stage. "Not in this manner. I can imagine Tommy puts on quite a show." I'd almost guarantee as such, judging by how he performs at other tasks.

My company also gazes at the stage. "Yeah, it's a..It's what he does. A stickler for rituals, eh?"

I peer side eyed to the gentleman, already a bit weary of small talk. "So, who are you?"

Without looking back, he replies "I'm a fan."

A fan? "Hm." I shrug and turn my full attention to Tommy. He shouts animatedly to the audience, screaming at them. They respond in kind, cheering "Amens" to the young preacher. I once again shake my head, but fail to keep the amused expression off my face, "Hallelujah, indeed." I mumble under my breath.

Still speaking in a quiet tone, as if they could be heard, the young man asks, "What brings you to church, Miss...?"

I respond in a normal volume. "Madelyn. And uh...guess I didn't have anything better to do."

He nods. "Little late to get into heaven, eh?"

At that statement, I laugh bitterly. "Yeah, I'm sure that's where I was headed." My misdeeds stick out far too prominently in my thoughts.

The young man turns to me and I can only hope my thoughts don't show in my expression. "Why bother with the church, then?"

Nosy one, isn't he. "Running out of places to go. Plus, there's usually mourners or repentants." To feed off of...I finish in my head.

His attention is once more returned to the front and I silently question his deep interest in the priest. "Not many in these historic necropoli. At least, that's what Tom says."

I smirk at the name 'Tom'. "Can you blame em? It's all overrated, anyway." He and I share a chuckle over Tommy's blatantly hypocritical sermon about chastity, and once again I ponder on his absorption to Tommy.

He reaches an extended hand towards me. "I'm Fredrick."

I hesitate a second, as the name strikes a vaguely familiar chord in me. Finally grasping his hand, I reply "Nice to meet you...I guess." I wonder if my skepticism to that statement shows on my face. He seems to be studying me between constant glances to the preacher on the pulpit. I ignore him at first, keeping my own attention at front, but eventually tire of his stare. Turning to face him, I raise an eyebrow in silent query.

"I'm sorry, I might have-" He stops, suddenly, as if having been hit by something. "I thought I had seen you somewhere."

"It's likely.." I respond, not offering up any more information. "I'd like to think it's fairly difficult for a mistaken identity."

He laughs a bit, "Pink isn't a color I'm used to seeing in this area."

I look around the church. "Indeed. It's fairly monochromatic here." On stage, Tommy seems to have stopped preaching, and the church congregation claps their approval. Now I ignore the man beside me, attention drawn to the dark haired priest. The original pastor, dark and refined, retrieves the pulpit as Tommy heads out stage left.

I watch Tommy exit and, barely realizing it, find myself rising from the pew. I start forward, then remember my present company. I glance towards Fredrick. "I think I'll uh..." I trail off after Tommy, not looking back. I hear him following, but pay the other wraith no mind. Should I really be doing this?

A cruel, hissing voice echoes in my skull and it's a struggle to not outwardly react.

Are you a fucking idiot?! You think a suicide attempt like this is going to end up any better than giving in to -me-? Tommy was one of few friends I had.

Fuck buddy seems more fitting. He's a Giovanni, you moron. A necromancer. Do you know what they do? What he'll do to you? My forward momentum seems to slow at the shadow's words. Enslavement. Torture. He'll destroy you.

He wouldn't.

I continue to follow the priest out a side exit and into a graveyard. I scan the landscape, until setting eyes on Tommy as he tosses what appears to be dollar coins upon each grave. I rub my hand against my forehead, as if staving off a headache.

You're a god damned fool if you do anything other than turning and walking away.

Something in the shadow's tone hints to fear, and it's that which settles my inner conflict. A plethora of emotions writhe in me as I cross the shroud and become visible to anyone who cares to look.

Tommy is turning to face another aisle of graves when takes notice of myself and Fredrick, who has followed me into the graveyard. The bag of coins falls from his hand, quickly joining his already fallen staff. I tuck my hands into my hoodie, gazing at him warily, almost afraid to speak. Tommy stills, as words seem to fail the usually verbose Giovanni. It brings the faintest of smiles to my lips. "Thomas Maletoni at a loss for words? If only everybody's reaction was this impressive." Idiotically, I find myself almost flattered.

He reaches to his right eye, plucking it from it's socket. "I've always been one to..." He struggles to produce a rag from his pocket, presumably to shine the glass orb. "Be impressive."

Amused, I reply "Must be why I hung around so often. Birds of a feather." I notice a tremor in his hands. "Need some help with that?"

He pulls his hand closer to his chest, protectively. The defensive actions nixes any urge I had to move closer. "Fredrick," he speaks, softly. "Make sure we're alone on your side." The slender young wraith nodded, and began skulking and surrounding himself with an aura of malice about the archaic tombstones.

I watch this with a detached curiosity. "Expecting trouble?" My words are casual, but my wariness shows through, tinging my voice with anxiety.

"I fear no spectre, no matter the form it takes."

Fear? What the hell is Tommy thinking? "Must be nice." I mumble under my breath.

"What are you, spirit?" He forces his right foot forward, sliding it against the grass and fallen leaves as he speaks. His forward motion causes me to take an involuntary step back. My face contorts, split between fear and shame. "I'm...me. Just uh, dead." Despite my knowledge and former friendship with the priest, everything about his manner seems menacing to me.

"Madelyn was diablerized. The Sabbat killed her." With his words comes a shake of the head another slow step forward. "I fear there may be more gravy than grave to you."

Is he quoting Dickens at me? What the fuck is he... Anger joins the smorgasbord of emotions upon my face. "You've got the 'killed' part right." I visibly fight the urge to retreat further.

Tommy grimaces, his brow furrowing in anger. "Affirm your identity, Spectre. I swear to Christ I'll rip your tattered bits to Hell. I'll feed you like shit to the mouths of demons. I fucking swear, you little fuck!" His hands raise, channeling an ethereal power to his palms.

Oh god, oh no...don't hurt me please.. I unwillingly back up, stumbling over my own feet until a grave stone hits the backs of my legs. Panic bubbles over and I spit out the first thing that comes to mind. "Jesus Christ, Tommy! You didn't even talk that dirty when we were fucking!"

He steps back and releases the gathered power upon the young wraith. Fredrick screams and collapses, his corpus fading into the Shadowlands' atmosphere. "Madelyn? Good god, that's really you?"

I watch his actions with a barely disguised fear. Turning wary eyes back to Tommy, I reply in a shaky voice. "Caught on, have you?"

He is visibly calmer as he rests his hands in his jacket pockets. Despite as such, I can't shake my dread. Over the sounds of the service inside the church, Fredrick can be heard gasping in pain. "Fuck, you're still here?"

I ignore his comment, but don't remove my eyes from his. Gesturing my head towards the other wraith, I respond "Another friend of yours?" That was almost me. She was right, Tommy is dangerous.

He beings striding towards me, talking lightly with accentuation on every syllable. "He doesn't matter. You do."

My body tenses, and I shrink back like a cornered prey animal, feeling the press of the cold stone against my legs. I somehow manage to keep my voice steady. "I've often though so..but, uh.." I spare a glance towards Fredrick, still moaning on the ground.

Tommy walks quicker, ignoring the other wraith and stopping within two feet of me. "You can't be here." he says in a soft, non threatening voice.

I stare up at the priest. "Probably not, but I am just the same. I. I can go...somewhere else, I guess." I take a deep breath, needlessly.

"No." In that one word, his voice is confident and commanding.

I'm cowed by the strength that emanates from him, shrinking into the terrified child I oft become. "...please." I whisper, choking off my own words furiously.

He closes the final gap between us and wraps an arm around my waist. My face is pulled to his in a deep, desperate kiss. I stiffen, as unyielding as stone in his unmovable grasp. Thoughts are incoherent as the sound of the church choir and Fredrick's pained groans fade from my ears. Despite the priest's frigid lips and my own inner consternation, I give in, thawing at the first touch of a living person in over a decade. At my response, Tommy presses harder against me. I tremble, relishing the sensation. After a moment, he pulls away and head spinning, I hear him speak. "You're crying? You're crying tears?" He seems equal parts worried and excited.

It's then I notice the dampness on my cheeks. Oh god damn it, are you kidding me? It's bit a long time but...fuck. "Jesus Christ." I vigorously swipe at my face, ridding myself of the traitorous tears and mumbling "...the female equivalent of premature ejaculation..."

Tommy releases me from his grasp, giving me space by stepping back. "Madelyn, what the hell have you been doing all these years?"

I lift and drop my shoulders in a shrug. "Same as always." Suffering. Being dead and miserable and alone. My brow creases. "Except, not." I open my mouth to continue, but just as quickly close it.

Tommy places his palm tightly against my forehead. "Why haven't you passed on to your reward, Maddie?"

Hyper aware of his touch, I snort at his comment, although my expression remains sad. "Reward, Tommy? Have the years led you to forget what I was?"

He acts as though I've personally insulted him, and his hand tightens harder on my head. "Redemption is always an option."

I flinch, unconsciously baring my teeth. "Never been great at that whole redemption thing. I figure I'd have way too much explaining to do."

He squeezes and it takes all my strength to not retreat back into the Shadowlands. He shouts "How would you like hell, you little shit!? What of your soul?"

I slap at his hand and pull my face away. "What the fuck do you know about hell, Tommy? Your preaching? Fire and brimstone? Hell is what I know best." I wrench my eyes from his, glaring blankly towards the cemetery gates. "...asshole." I hate the wounded tone in my voice.

Tommy seems even more enraged by my resistance. "I know more about Hell than you will ever claim to! There's not a damn thing anyone on Earth can do to you that the demons I've spoken to couldn't top." He spits his words at me before turning away. His voice is muffled, "Stupid fucking bitch. You know nothing." Turning once more to see me, he points and whispers clearly, "Nothing."

I desperately try to hold onto anger, rage...anything but the impending crush of dismay. This isn't how I sought to spend my night. I fail to retain my grasp and my determination breaks as I quickly turn from the priest. He's right. "I don't." My voice is barely a whisper and I take a few steps away and sink cross legged into the dry grass. I sense Tommy approaching, reaching out to me. I squeeze my eyes shut, wishing I had just stayed in the misery at the cabin.

"I'm sorry, Madelyn." he quickly continues, "What is your human name? The one given by your mortal mother before your embrace?"

I pull my knees to my chest, wrapping my arms around them and resting my head away from the priest. "Madelyn. Madelyn Alexis DeWittier." I fail to sense the impending action of my words.

"Madelyn Alexis DeWittier, stand." He chants in an unrecognizable language and there is no resisting his command. You bastard. You god damned bastard. How can he do this to me. I flinch, feeling betrayed. "Turn, Maddie. Please face me." I do, and his face is stricken. The expression confuses me.

Like a lost child, I glance around as if expecting some monster to creep out. "Is this...Is this even real?"

Tommy whispers, "No, my dear. My Maddie." He pauses, wiping tears from his cheeks. "Nothing is real now, Madelyn. Nothing but your new choice."

I thought this was over. Isn't it bad enough with her...the shadow, trying to take over. Why must they give and take like this? Why can't I just have a night, have just a MOMENT of peace?! I wrap my arms around myself, shaking my head side to side. "Why did they send you? Are they already tired of using Mongrel or...him?" I shudder. "What are you going to make me do?"

Tommy presses his cold lips to my cheek in a kiss. "God sent me to help you, Maddie. He wants you to get better. He wants you to come back to us."

Please, no. That's worse. "Please...please don't do that. Just get it over with, please. I won't fight, I'll...I'll be good." The vacant feeling of surrender fills me as I give up on a battle yet to fully commence. "Who is 'us', Tommy?" Who wants what from me, now?

"God wants to give you back to me and Mongrel."

I blink a few times, confused, and rub my eyes with the heel of my hand. "What's the catch? What do I have to give in return?" A flicker of lucidity. "I'm running low on what I have to give...Low to empty." My eyes drop to the ground in shame.

Tommy's arms are around me once more, his hand to the back of my head. Gently, this time. Deceptively gently? "I don't know, but I know Mongrel can help you. Let him." His touch is far too comforting, far too much like solace.

"...nooo.." I whimper, but can't help but to tuck myself into his embrace. "Mongrel wants me to move on. He says he wants to set me free. What does that even mean?"

Tommy kisses the top of my head, drawing an indecipherable sound from my lips. "Mongrel is a dirty faggot that doesn't know anything, Maddie. He doesn't know that if you pass, you'll go straight to Hell. We need to bring you back." I laugh aloud before I can help it. I quickly cover my mouth, ashamed, and my eyes widen in realization.

This is no hallucination. It can't be. "This is...different." I cock my head to the side, studying Tommy with enlightened eyes.

"Not so different from a decade ago. Is it?" He smiles.

"Well, no...but.." A slight shake to clear my head further. "This...really is happening, isn't it. Gets harder and harder to tell, lately." I place my hand upon Tommy's chest, gauging his realness and confirming my words.

"I'm real, Maddie. Pissed as it makes me, I'm still living and breathing." He lightly chortles at his own joke, "Well, breathing when I want to talk."

I keep my hand to his chest and attempt a smile. Great. Don't talk to anyone for years and the first time I do, I crack up. Embarrassed, I keep my voice casual. "It's uh...good to see you, Tommy." The feel of his chest beneath my fingertips assuages me more than I would ever say. "It truly is."

Tommy's brief smiles grows to a grin. He takes my hand from his chest and into his own. "Would you like to talk a bit? There's a lot of time before the sun rises."

Ha. The sun. Haven't worried about that in a while. "I haven't actually talked to anyone but myself in a long time." I curl my fingers around his and stare at the result. "Haven't touched anyone, either."

He squeezes my hand and reaches for the other. "Would you like to tell me about your adventures in the Dead Lands?"

A shudder runs through me. "I fear our definition if adventure differs greatly. Maybe I waste my potential, but it's a struggle to keep myself...myself." I purposefully avert my eyes from Tommy's. "More than it ever was."

"I can see how difficult it can be to keep control." His hands hold me tighter and he leans to whisper in my ear. "If you have a path, you won't get lost. I swear that you'll stay you. You have to resist."

He speaks as if it's so easy. How could he know so much an yet...so little. I sigh. "You can't swear that. You don't know..." I look up, fearful of rousing his fury. "It's hard. Harder than when I was alive, and more tempting to give in." I hear my voice waver, anger and shame reading clearly on my face.

Tommy's face maintains it's convictions and confidence, but behind his mask it waned. "Don't fucking dare give up. "

"I haven't, have I? Seventy seven years and I'm still..." Dead. "..well...I'm dead." I give a half smile. "I try, Tommy."

He returns the smile, far more naturally. "You have, and you're going to keep trying. Yes?" Between him and Mongrel, it's a lot like having a mini pep squad. I nod at his statement, knowing he likely sees the doubt in my eyes. My hands seem to move of their own accord, tracing along Tommy's upper body as if reacquainting with the familiar planes. I'm barely aware I'm doing it.

The silence makes me anxious after a few moments, and I'm forced to break it on my own. "So, are you a god yet? How's that whole thing going?"

His face changes, becoming marred with restraint. "That was a fantasy."

I arch my eyebrow at the priest, curious. "I wouldn't peg you to being so imaginative." His forced smile, coupled with his awkward glass eye and open mouth scars, turn the attempt at pleasantry into a countenance of appalling nature. Yeesh. What did Tommy get into when I was gone?

He chuckles lightly, the sound almost unpleasant. "I can be an imaginative monster."

Viewing his reaction through wary eyes, I can't keep pride from my voice as I respond. "You and I both."

"Will you join me at a seat?" He gestures towards a small picnic table, visible past the graves.

"Sure..." I reply, cordially enough. It's then I become fully aware of my unconscious feeling up of the young priest. Ah, god damn it. My eyes widen as I stutter out an apology. I remove my hands from Tommy, cover my face with one and make my way to the table. Eschewing the bench to sit on the table itself, I half turn to watch Tommy take a seat on the bench adjacent.

He presses the tips of his fingers together, peering at me with a curious look upon his face. "I wanted to ask you your forgiveness for something, Madelyn. Since we're focusing on redemption, and all."

Perplexed, I ask "Forgiveness from me?"

He takes a small, worn piece of paper from the inside of his jacket. The black ink on the page bleeds through so that I get a glance of a list of sorts. "I did something to one of yours before you died. Thought that I should come clean, before you begin your path."

My head cocks to the side. "One of mine?" Oh right, Malkavian. How quickly I forget. I look at the priest, suspicious, but wholly unworried. "What did you do?" Tommy turns the note around to face me, revealing a line of names. Some are crossed off, but only those at the top of the list. To better show it, he takes a lighter and sparks it near the note. Among the crossed out names are "Pyotr" and "Hunter." Simon, Munin, and Testament remain uncrossed on the list. A flutter in my gut, telling me I'm about to find out a bit about Tommy that I was previously unaware of. I look to the priest's face, keeping my own blank. "I take it this isn't a Christmas list?" He brings his hand down to a name crossed out, separate from the others.

It reads, "Melody." Tommy looks closely at me, "This was one of your clan. I took her. You're the only one that can forgive me."

Truthfully, I only vaguely remember the young woman. I chose to separate myself from most of my clan, seemed safer more than often, "And did what? Don't be coy, Tommy.."

"I drank her dry and devoured her soul for Amm-" Tommy stutters for a moment. His normally clear annunciation is suspended as he seems to struggle to speak. I'm almost happy to hear him as the one struggling for once. "Amaranth."

I'm hardly surprised. Diablerie seemed right up Tommy's ally. Poor, power hungry boy. "Christ, Tommy. You really dug in deep, didn't you?" I feel sad, but more so for Tommy than those he had slain. An errant thought crosses my mind. "Is that..." my voice pauses. "Is that what you did to Pyotr?" I swallow harshly, angered that I still feel an old sorrow for the Brujah.

"Franco wouldn't let me." He doesn't seem guilty in the least as he looks down to the former Regent's name. "Franco gave him the Praxis, so I suppose it was his right."

Yeah. Good old Franco. "Right..well you know my opinion on that one." I have to look away, knowing the Giovanni wouldn't appreciate the pity etched in my expression. "Christ, Tommy..." I repeat.

"I've eaten a lot of our people, Maddie." He places a hand down to mine. "I'm asking you to forgive me for Melody."

Rationalizing in my own head, Tommy is..was..essentially a cannibal. But is he so wrong? We are all monsters. Some more than others. Isn't ridding our existence a commendable idea? Even if it was for his own power hungry delusion. The feel of his hand is far too comforting. "Hell, I forgive you for all of it. I mean, I probably wouldn't give a shit about you if ya weren't screwed up." My expression turns serious. I wonder how close I can to meeting the same fate. After all, look up 'monster' in the dictionary... "Did you ever...would you of done it to me?" Without hesitating, he points to an area on the page that was whited out. A gap between Testament and Valik. Christ. How easily could Tommy have brought upon merciless death? I struggle to keep an emotionless visage. "Too bad the Sabbat beat you to it."

"I took you off. You were never really an option."

That's interesting. "And why is that?" I know he feels the slight tremble in my hand. Tommy looked surprised, as if not expecting the question. As if he'd not ever thought to ask it, himself. Quite interesting. I spare another glance to the paper. Valik was on the list, Magnus, Testament, even his Sire, Raven. Only my name and one other had been whited off the list.

"I can't."

Can't? Really. Something Tommy can't do? "Guess that's a good thing. For me." I laugh without humor. "Especially given all the chances you had." My laugh is broken by an unwilling shudder.

Tommy's hand tightens on mine suddenly, his voice raised. "This is my path! This is how far I have to go. You're not alone in damnation, but there's always a way out!" Like a dog that's been beat, I flinch, fearing his wrath once more. By instinct, I try to yank my hand from his, but his grip is too strong. "Damn it, Madelyn. This is for your own good!" he screams. Only for the music and speakers of the small adjacent church is his voice masked. "Do you want to end up in Hell? Somewhere worse? What the fuck are you thinking?"

I'm caught in a whirlwind of my own emotions, riding on his anger. "...stop. Stop." I turn to glare at the priest. A paper tiger. "Damn you, Tommy...you don't know how hard it's been for me. At least when I was alive, there's was always someone to watch over me, protect me...keep me sane. For the past decade I've been alone. No one cares about me. There's nothing to remind me not to give up. No one to contradict all the voices that tell me...that -assure- me that letting go means I won't hurt anymore. That if I give in, I'll forget every horrible thing done to me. Every horrible thing I've done." I hate the tears that burn in my eyes. "I'm weak, Tommy. That's one thing my maker is still right about." I fear even speaking of the monster aloud.

"Your maker didn't know anything about who you are, now. Only you do. I know it can be terrifying. I've spoken to so many wr-" He pauses and collects himself. "Spirits. They've told me of their hardships, and I know it's difficult."

My voice is quiet and without power. "I don't want to be dead..."

Tommy looks frustrated, almost pained by something. "Then don't be."

My hand ceases it's fruitless struggle to escape his. "Oh? Is it that easy?" Now I just feel ashamed of myself.

"Tommy, I'm sorry."

He takes his left hand and places it under my chin. "Don't be. It's not as easy as saying it, but I think there may be a way to help you."

At least he admits it's not just a damn walk in the park. I take his hand from my chin, resting my cheek against the open palm. I can't meet his eyes. "I hope there is. And I should be sorry. First live person I willingly speak to and all I do is whine and rub myself on him." Despite my verbalized shame, I keep my face in his hand.

"You'll have plenty of time to do everything else, Madelyn." The edges of the priest's mouth turns up, without restraint. "Neither of us are going anywhere, as long as we both do our jobs."

I return Tommy's smile with effort. Realizing I'm still holding his hand to my face, I drop my own. "Sorry, sorry. Why is it always you that's around when I'm desperate.." I cringe "..for human contact?"

Tommy seems to wonder at it, for a moment. "Because you don't have anyone else left?" I open my mouth to respond, but quickly close it again. All I manage is a wavering, pathetic excuse for a laugh. Oblivious, Tommy smiles and cups my face in his smooth, cold hands. "I can help you keep yourself, Madelyn. Let me protect you this time."

I grasp his wrists and smile back, closing my eyes in pure contentment for a moment. "That's a hell of a responsibility, Tommy. I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm kind of a mess. I'm surprised Mongrel stuck around as long as he did." My smile wilts a bit, and I hope Tommy doesn't notice.

The hint of annoyance in his voice suggests otherwise. "He didn't. He left you for that frocio, Pyotr. I tried to protect you from the Sabbat when that little shit was in Scandinavia with the rest of the blond faggots!"

Heh. Yeah, he must have a thing for blonds, now. I sigh. "He tried. He did. I don't blame him for doing what he did." I do. Oh, fuck yes I do.

"If he did what he had to do, he wasn't worth your devotion in the first place." Thomas speaks as if reciting from a book. A matter-of-fact opinion.

Typical Giovanni. "I have to tell myself that, Tommy. Otherwise..." My words are tinged with fear.

"Otherwise, what? You don't need someone else to have the right to exist. You don't need anybodies permission. You've survived this long as Kindred, then as a spirit. That's resilience!"

Now, it's my turn to be frustrated. "The otherwise isn't for my sake...it's for his."

Tommy is visibly taken aback by my reply. "His?" I nod, needlessly. "

I'm not always the one running the show." As I often fear. "Or maybe it is me. I don't know. It's not always safe for Mongrel when I'm near. Especially when Sas..." I trail off, my deep set devotion to Mongrel leading me to not want to expose more than necessary about his lover.

"Especially when, what? If I'm going to help you, you've gotta let me know what's going on."

"Mongrel has a new lover. Sasa. He lives with him and two other Gangrel that have been staying at their cabin." A muscle twitches in my cheek at mention of Law and Vivian. There's just too many damn memories around those guys.

"Still a faggot, then? Hmph. Thought the blond would outgrow it." Thomas visibly scoffs , as if above such disgusting, and beastly, practices. I raise my brow, but neglect to comment on Tommy's blatant hypocrisy.

"Regardless, sometimes their antics are a bit difficult to...deal with."

Being somewhat obtuse, Tommy asks "Can either of them see you?" I shake my head. "And the other Gangrel?"

Christ, no. "Nope. Lucky them." The Giovanni chuckles, putting me on edge.

"No no no, my dear." He chortles. "Lucky you."

"In a manner of speaking...I guess." I look at him with a cautious curiosity. "This Sasa, he and Mongrel fuck and make love? They disturb you with their insidious gall?" The volume of his voice heightens, the speed increasing. "Do they?"

My lip curls at his crudeness. "Are you trying to make a point?" I say in a low voice.

"Do they disturb you?" Obtrusive fuck...

"Yes. What's. Your. Point."

Tommy seems triumphant. "Disturb them right back. Make them associate their lust with your fury. When they feed, break them. When they fuck, bury them. You're more immortal than they will ever be."

I rub at my forehead. The priest truly is obtuse to the point. "I have. My self control is...anemic at best. I believe you've experienced that firsthand."

Tommy leans back a bit, settling his hands on his knees. "Madelyn, would you like me to help you in this transition? Help you make the most of your transition?"

I'm waiting for the catch. "Ye-es..."

He smiles, satisfied. "Good. I'm assuming human contact has been an issue of yours?"

A hint of longing in my tone, as I reply "An issue if you consider the complete lack of it problematic."

Tommy pulls a cell phone from his pocket and fires off a text. "Forgive me, I didn't plan on needing a piece of paper tonight." He closes it, satiated in his needs. "Litany is on her way with the stationary."

"...oh Christ..." I mumble under my breath,

"Now, to remain tangible you're going to need people to know you. Remember you. The dead are mere memories, remember that."

Vexed by our potential company, I begrudgingly lament, "Other than yourself, Mongrel and..well other than you guys, I don't think there's anyone around that remembers me."

"You see how we're talking? Try that. Go to the various Necropoli, jump into existence. Talk to mourning mothers or children. Talk to groundskeepers. You know those 'ghost stories?' That's you, if you're smart." At the edge of the street pulls in a screaming black car that runs up the curb. The horn beeps twice, quickly in succession.

"Mourning mothers of children I probably killed." I say, shaking my head at the approach of the car. "How will this help me?"

"You won't be nearly as lonely. It also lets you restore your pathos as you need to. The loneliness is enough to give the Shadow a helping hand, and we can't have a Spectre version of you on the loose. I would have to tear you apart."

A chill runs through me. "Yeah, she's a..." fucking monster. Another shake of the head. "And this will help me, ah, come back?"

"This will help you live that long." I nod, not fully understanding, but at least aware that Tommy probably knows what he's talking about.

I quietly scoot towards the edge of the table to face the priest. "Tommy, why do you want to help me?"

In typical Thomas Maletoni manner, he stands, dismissing my query and waving widely at the parked car. "I told the bitch to get her ass up here. I swear to Christ that I'm going to sell that little shit..."

I stay seated, staring towards the car, not really seeing it or Tommy. I don't snap back to reality under the sound of a sharp smack alert me to Litany's appearance. Looking up in time to see Tommy pulling his hand away from the ghoul's bleeding mouth. "You fell down the front step of the house and hit your mouth on the railing. You gave me the papers and left. I love you."

My eyes are wide and focused on Tommy as he kisses the ghoul before she flounces back the car. My god. What hell has changed in him? For the third time that night, I find myself mumbling "Christ, Tommy..."

He places down a small stack of papers."What?" His face seems lightened, cathartic. I press my lips together, but don't comment. Whatever helps him sleep at night. Day. Whatever. He tilts his head, then gives up and proceeds to write. "Should these be rules, laws, or steps? I don't want you to think you're an alcoholic."

I watch him write, only vaguely interested. "Are you writing me up a self help guide?" I ask, incredulous.

"Is that how you'd like to see it?" The stress returns to Thomas' eyes. He seemed a teacher with a difficult pupil.

"I mean...if it helps..." my own forehead creases with anxiety.

"That's up to you, if it helps. I mean, you've survived a decade, almost. Let's see if we can prolong that. " He looks up at me from the page, as if to set me at ease. "Okay, first. Let's make sure you're safe. 'Do not approach Kine or Kindred without Reason.' Does that sound good?"

He must think I make a habit of this. "Add in 'do not approach other wraiths' and I already have that covered."

He seems pleased. "Wonderful. Other wraiths will hate you for your power and history. Second, the shadow can never be given a foothold. It will make you do self destructive things, like momentary possession or talking with Soul-Forgers. That's a no go."

I wrap my arms around my midsection, protectively. "You don't say.."

"I do, indeed." Tommy grasps my chin with his left hand and asks, "Do you struggle with the Shadow?"

Caught off guard, a flash of fear runs through me, fading slightly as I focus on Tommy's face. "Not any more than I struggled with myself when I was alive." I hug myself tighter. "Ok, maybe a little more." Dropping my gaze to the ground. "A lot more."

"Hm. Worse than the Beast?" He seemed honestly curious, not cruel in his prodding.

I half nod, half shrug. "There's so many different...entities...it's often impossible to gauge which is worse." It's always been a full goddamn house in here. Tommy has a moment of solitary reflection, before scribbling on the page again.

"Third, remember your Fetters. I assume that you've been haunting Mongrel for a reason other than his wondrous complexion and gaping anus?" I give the priest a weary, withering look despite my anxiety.

"I was drawn to where he was, so I guess there's more to that."

"Do you feel that his home or his person draws you more?"

"Really?" My expression is incredulous once more. "It's...not the house."

"Is it something he possesses? Forgive the pun."

I shake my head. Obtuse motherfucker. "Just him."

"Wonderful. Protect your fetters. Mongrel cannot die, lest you're far less powerful." I feel stricken at the very idea as Tommy notates a few more things in the margins. "Any ideas on a fourth rule?"

I stare at Tommy for a moment, before placing my hand over the sheets of paper and pulling them away. "Why are you doing this for me?"

Tommy looks up to me and sighs loudly, placing down his pen with a purpose. He closes the lighter that had been set to establish light, and purses his lips. "What do you want my answer to be, Maddie?"

I stow the papers in my hoodie pocket and place my hands flat on either side of me. "I don't know. But I can't understand why. Do you do this for every spirit you come across? Have you done it for -any- other?"

Tommy curses lightly in some other language, maybe Italian? His hands reignite the lighter and he pulls a cigarette from the pack in his inner-sleeve pocket. Pulling a puff of smoke from his nose and the deformed corners of his mouth, he replies. "You saw Fredrick, right? Saw what I did to him? I've known him since I was a Kine in fucking college. He was my ghoul for decades. He guarded us when we fucked in the Stadium. You remember that?"

Case in point. What makes him want to do this for me? I drum my fingers on the table, impatiently. "I remember. Although, can't recall noticing him around."

A mere ghost of a smile creeps to my lips. "He's still on the ground, over next to the stones. He's got enough corpus just to live. You could mold him into an obulus on your own, if you had the desire. I've been with Bernito for almost 10 years, and even that Rosselini thinks I'm too cruel."

Most of Tommy's words seem foreign to me, but I don't voice my concerns. Feeling vaguely irritated at the Giovanni's avoidance, I reply "That doesn't answer my question, Tommy." I scoot to the edge of the table where he sits, resting a booted foot on either side of him on the bench. "What do you see that is worth redeeming in me? That isn't, perhaps in poor Fredrick." Seems like a reach for the man who murdered Pyotr for being too much of a monster.

"That's not something that I can tell you, yet."

Tommy seems distracted by something, and as I'm oblivious to the source, I place my hand under his jaw, lifting his gaze to my face. "Not something you can tell me, yet? Thomas Maletoni, that sounds like a cop-out."

Tommy relents to my hand and peers up at me. Something in his steady gaze makes my cheeks feel as if they'd be reddened, were there blood in them. "Maybe when you're older."

Affronted, I snap at him "I'm older than you! Boy..."

The priest laughs and kisses my cheek, lightly. "The grey hairs scattered around on my head say differently."

I used my leverage on his jaw to angle his head downwards, perusing the priest's scalp. "Bullshit." When he raises his head once more, I can't fight the genuine smile off my face. Even knowing it's ill advised to be so comfortable in the presence of a potential adversary. Tommy returns the smile, meeting my eyes and matching my grin. "Despite the fact that I'm slightly terrified of you, and I'm well aware that you can and would utterly destroy me, I feel..." I don't finish, but unconsciously lean in closer proximity to Tommy. "Tell me why you're helping me?" I speak softly.

"I can't, not yet." His face drifts away from me, and his smile has a hint of a quiver."I'm not ready, yet."

I purse my lips, torn between wanting to press him further and respecting his privacy. Like he ever gives me the same courtesy. "Quite unfair as you know much about me, and what you don't know you can force out of me."

"I'll tell you, and I'll do it soon. We need to get through this, though. I need to set you on your way."

I exhale, loudly and unnecessarily, but let it slide. Tapping my boot on the wood underneath him, I speak sincerely. "Regardless, I appreciate you doing this for me. I...I'd probably be pretty lost on my own."

His eyes drift away from mine. "We're all lost on our own. That's the idea." Again, the priest seems distracted.

I continue tapping my foot, "Are you lonely, Tommy?"

He replies quickly, "I wouldn't say so. I'm constantly surrounded by people, I've got a TV show, two ghouls. It's a decent life."

Hmm. Even when he does give a straight answer, it doesn't ring true. I know he was lonely before, pretty sure that's what saved him from tasting my chainsaw after Pyotr... My thoughts are briskly interrupted at the feel of his hand above my knee, nails digging in gently. "We just need to get things back to the way they were."

My breath draws in, deeply and I look down to his wandering hand. My foot stops tapping it's rhythm. "Ah, yes." I blink a few times, realizing I have no idea what I just uttered agreement to, and knowing Tommy...

He smooths his palm further up my thigh. "I'm glad you agree. So, are you ready to start?" His cold touch sends a shiver through me, and once again my response is distracted.

"Start? Oh. Right...yes."

He reaches for his paper, forgetting I stowed it in my pocket. "It's important for you to use Mongrel to find Necromancers that can help you. Ones that won't torture or enslave you."

I'm not fond of how he's wording this plan, but seem unable to voice as such. "And other than yourself, how will I know which ones won't do just that? Even more important, how will Mongrel know?" My voice comes out as if I'm short of breath.

Tommy begins reaching into my pocket, still grasping within my skirt with his other hand. "Life for Mongrel will be miserable of you're doing your job correctly. Torture the little shit and he'll be forced to look for help. If he's smart, he'll try to get you banished, but I doubt he is. Hell, you could always dominate him to look for a necromancer who's willing to help."

I press my hand to my pocket, restricting access to that cavity. I'm once again put off by his words. "I don't want to make his life miserable. Can't I just...ask him?" Realizing that would mean manifesting for the Gangrel, I mumble, "Or something else?"

"Torturing him isn't just for your sake, it helps your Shadow. Keeps it appeased." He shakes his head. "No, torturing the Gangrel is essential." I feel him move my underwear aside under my skirt.

Long unused muscles jump along my inner thighs and it's a struggle to hold my concentration. "I...I don't know if I can do that, Tommy."

His name comes out as a mixture of a sigh and a moan. The priests' hand moves deftly against the my skin. He chuckles as he speaks, "It's easy, Maddie. You just prevent him from feeding by dementing him. Your arcanoi is powerful."

Goddamn it, he's making this difficult on purpose. I shudder. "Physically easy, yes. But...I don't wish harm on Mongrel. Usually." I continue, quietly.

"It's not a matter of wishing. You'll do what you have to." Tommy presses his long fingers within me.

"I have to?" I gasp. I lean back slightly, propping my weight back on my left hand. "That is...a welcome distraction." No, it isn't! Keep your damn mind in the game!

"You do. There's a reason that hauntings occur, those wraiths have figured the game out. They display their strength, secure their fetters." As he speaks, Thomas speeds his probing.

"But.." I lean forward again, grasping Tommy's arm. "You're making it very difficult to hold a conversation. Or argue with you..." Which is likely the point.

Tommy laughs loudly and withdraws his fingers. "I'm sure I am. It's good that you're not arguing, though."

I shake my head, as if to clear it. "Is it? Because I'm still not keen on this idea, Tommy. Despite what mistakes he's made, Mongrel doesn't deserve torment. Even if it's torment exacted by the one he's wronged." I don't like speaking these truths aloud, and it shows on my face,

"This isn't about deserving, Madelyn, this is about necessity. He not only deserves it, you deserve it."

I don't directly argue the point. "And if I can't?"

Tommy looks away for a moment, then returns to staring with a look of pain behind his eye. "You will, whether you can or not. Madelyn, I care about you enough to do something you'd rather I not. And I fucking swear I will." His barely veiled threat frightens me, but I keep a brave face.

"Would you? Would you take away my free will? Enslave me?" I already know I don't want the answer. His silence confirms it. Rising from his seat, he kisses me and steps away from the table. "Damn you, Tommy. You can't just.." I trail off, knowing very well that he can. "Why does it have to be like this?"

He comes back towards me. "Because you don't want to be dead, do you?" He grabs me by my hair, almost ravaging my scalp with his Potence. "You want to live? To go back to the way things were?"

I grab at his wrist, my strength incomparable. "I want you to stop treating me like your fucking ghoul every time I say something you don't agree with!" The pain from his grasp doesn't distract from the agony I feel in my chest. "Of course I want to live, I HATE being this! You'll pardon me if I show a little hesitance towards hurting someone I lo...care about." What is it he can't understand about this?!

"Do you think I would have stayed around this long if I didn't care about you? What's that little shit doing for you right now? He's happy you're gone! I'm trying to save you!" He chokes up after the last word, letting go of me. "Don't you fucking dare act like I'm doing anything but helping you."

Speaking aloud the thought that I've been quietly fearing, I find myself unable to retort. Pressing a hand to my aching scalp, I hang my head. "I -know- you're trying to help. And I'm trying...you have no idea how hard I'm trying." I fight the old urge to curl into myself.

His rage doesn't abate as he responds, "I won't give you up, not now that you're back. Every person I've seen die, every soul drank out of them, for you to come back? I won't let you get in the way of that. Not on your fucking life."

I risk a glance at Tommy. "I can't understand your devotion to this." Studying him with sad, tired eyes, I realize I won't get my way against him. "I'll do as you ask, Tommy. And if I can't, you'll...do what you do."

I give a resigned sigh and speak low, under my breath. "Then try lashing out at me once I come back and get my goddamn chainsaw..."

He gives a light chuckle, slowly calming down. "I'm sure you will, Maddie. Don't worry, though. I've no plans to take your will from you, you're too dear to me for that. You need to understand the plan, though."

My brow furrows at mention of me being 'dear' to him. What the hell does that mean? And what is with his fucking mood swings? "Fine. What's the plan then, Tommy?"

He gestures towards me. "Well, most of it is in your pocket. The rest is pretty simple. You let Mongrel know that you want to come back. Hint that it's possible. Torture him. The path reveals from there." Still not comfortable with Tommy's plan, but wary of rousing his anger again, I simply nod. Dropping my eyes, I stare at the space between my feet. "Are you all right, Madelyn? Is there something else troubling you?"

Tommy seems obtuse to my sentiments. I continue my blank stare. But, is he not right? What am I now, but nothing? I can't continue like this...I deserve more. Another chance. To fuck up...whatever. And if Mongrel has to be hurt in the process... When I meet his gaze, there's a hardened, cold look in my eyes. "Never, and always." I laugh a bit. "But when have I ever let that get in my way?" Often. So often. Hell if I have to admit that.

His expression is almost paternal as he replies, "I don't think you're that bad off, Maddie. I think you'll do fine." He speaks with a knowing tone and with a creased brow. "This is only going to make things easier for you." Y

ou moron. What do you know. "Easier. Right." I stare down the priest. "I'll do what I need to, but I have a condition."

Tommy smiles, reaching a hand out to me. "Go ahead, Madelyn."

I stare at the offered extremity, tempted to ignore it. When I do take his hand, I grip it firmly. "Mongrel must never know that what I do to him is of my own free will. I can make his unlife hell in a way no one else can.." an uncharacteristically cruel smile crosses my face and my grip on Tommy's hand tightens. It doesn't feel like my words coming from my lips. Just as quickly the smile fades. "Mongrel believes I'm possessed or being controlled...I wish for him to stay under that impression."

"And, obviously, you are to be saved from it only by bringing you back. This force only lets you away for small amounts of time. Only enough to tell him to go find you help." Tommy smiles, finally confident that I've come to my senses. I'm pleased, for now, having expected him to argue or berate me once more. Circling my fingers around his wrist, I pull him in closer proximity.

"Have you ever cared for someone in an excessive manner, Tommy? In such a way that if you deliberately hurt them it would destroy something in yourself?"

He leans in to my ear and whispers, "Yes, Lady Malkavian."

Hmph. There he goes with his etiquette. I refuse to crack a smile, despite the urge to. My hand trails up his arm to grip the back of his neck. "How'd that work out, Thomas?"

I hear the smile in his voice when he replies. "She died, and I evolved."

Curiosity piqued, I inquire, "Care to share the story, Thomas?"

"No. I'd rather hear about how you're enjoying your triumph over death."

I'm not surprised by his unwillingness to disclose. "Stubborn, secretive bastard...aren't you?"

He laughs, pulling away from me. "It's not often you'll see a priest in the confession booth."

If I'm not mistaken, I think my inquiries make him uncomfortable. I smirk at his retreat. "Not used to interrogations?"

"It's only an interrogation if I'm being forced"

Oh Tommy, I would if I could. I chuckle at myself. "Again, I wish for my chainsaw...and maybe some barbed wire. Why not just tell me?"

He sits adjacent to me once more "It's not anything relevant to you, Madelyn. You didn't know her."

"As if half the things you know about me are relevant." I lean back on my elbows, peering at the priest from under my bangs.

"I'm not indebted to you, Madelyn. I don't owe you anything." He seems mildly annoyed and his brow furrows and creases in his frustration. What is it with everything being a debt to pay? "I'd rather we focused on what you're doing from here."

So damned stubborn. "Never insinuated that you did. You sure have gotten quick-tempered over the years, haven't you Tommy?" Despite the derisive tone in my voice, I reach to his face and attempts to smooth his brow with my fingertips. "What -am- I doing from here?"

The return of his anger is diminished. "You're listening to your old friend." He softens his tone and places a hand on my own. "Your old lover. You're doing whatever it takes to progress to get back to the way things were."

Old lover...amazing how there's more than one of those hanging around, lately. The way things were, indeed. I shake my head, ruefully. "Perhaps sans the infant consumption and suicide attempts." My own brow furrows, but I laugh off the statement.

"Sans infant consumption? I wasn't aware you spoke Latin." His chuckle seems to reflect his calming mood. "Everything is going to be okay, Maddie. You won't have to anything you don't want to. No Beast, no Malkavian Madness, no Shadow." His change in demeanor pleases me.

"No madness? It's been so long, I don't even know if there's much Madelyn left under the madness."

A truly curious statement. "Well, if you're damned crazy underneath that dead skin, you'll still be crazy. But crazy can be endearing. I remember enjoying your crazy once upon a time."

My eyes go distant. I'm aware of what I was, what I started as. It seems so far away..."Tell you the truth, I don't remember if I was crazy before..." I cut myself off. No reason to bring that up. Quickly changing the subject, I continue, "It takes crazy to enjoy crazy. While most don't eschew their sanity on a massive scale, I think everyone loosens their grip once in awhile."

"Not everyone. Some of us can't afford it. And some of us need to embrace it for a little while longer."

Amused, I ask the priest, "What category do you fall under?"

Tommy looks perplexed for a moment. "The first, obviously."

I turn my face away to hide my smirk. "Obviously.." I reply, drawing the word out.

"Are you willing to be crazy for a while longer? Cruel, even?"

My face turns back to him, unsmiling. "I told you I would. I'm adept at cruelty. I had a good teacher." I push aside the painful, flickering memories.

"I'm hoping that's not directed towards me, but I understand if it is." Now it's my turn to look perplexed.

"You?" I laugh a bit. "No, Tommy. I'm not referring to you. I don't see you as excessively cruel. Just kind of an asshole." I speak the insult with affection.

"I'd like to think I'm just proactive. Being an asshole is sort of important in that." He pauses. "You know, I really have missed you."

The last statement takes me by surprise. "You sure about that sanity thing?" I tentatively rest my hand on Tommy's. "It's strange, but welcome. Being missed." Surely Tommy had better things to do.

"I'm sure that you didn't think of me while you were running around, being dead and all.

But you've always been around."

"Ah jeez, Tommy." I shift about, uncomfortable. "There are very few people that I miss. Even fewer that I give a shit about. You fall under both categories. Why else would I show myself to somebody for the first time in ten years..." Why indeed...Maddie?

"Because I have something of yours. A fetter. Don't I?"

Oh yes, that MUST be it. "Yeah. Maybe." No. "Doesn't mean I had to talk to ya." From his pocket, he pulls my well worn and well loved iPod.

"True. I had no intention to destroy the iPod. Although, it's starting to die out on me."

The sight of my inanimate friend and the fact that he still has it makes me smile. "Didn't actually think you'd hold onto it. I imagine it's a bit outdated."

"Money's been tight, these days." Skeptical, I watch as he flicks it on and the pixels dance across the screen. "I'm not sure that there's someone that could tinker on this for me."

"Most would probably advise you to trade it in. Get one of those iPod Touch...things." I yearn to hear the comforting sounds of my vast play list, just for old times sake.

"If this is thrown away or broken apart, a piece of your soul with rip."

This brings me from my material reminiscing. "Pretty glad you hung onto it, then." I reply, nervously.

"I knew that there was something mystical to it. I thought, perhaps, that it was a node of some sort. But you're here, and it's still around."


	44. Chapter 44

A slightly off tune rendition of a Sting song echoes on my side of the woods. Jesus Christ, was I actually just singing to myself? I shake my head, but can't deny the uplift in my mood since my encounter with Tommy. Despite my fear and his temper...I haven't felt this content since I died. Making my way through the clearing, the cabin comes into view. Mongrel is home. Alone, for a change. Now's the best time...maybe even one of the last times I'll get to speak with him on neutral ground. I've accepted what I need to do. Mostly.

Or maybe you just know what the good father will do to you, if you don't.

On instinct, a growl slips from my lips. There she is, waiting for me on the wooden steps, blocking the front door. You bitch. A smile creeps onto the Shadow's face. Miss me, Maddie?

"Yeah, funny enough. Where were you hiding all night?"

My voice is rich with bravado. "Necromancers make you nervous?"

She laughs, but I feel her anger at my audacity. Your bi-polar fuck buddy? She laughs derisively. You moron. It's not like he could doing anything to me without destroying you, too. I don't have time for this shit. I attempt to make my way up the stairs, ignoring the phantasm of myself. Her cold, unyielding hand against my chest halts my progress and I take a retreating step. And what are you up to now, little Maddie?

"None of your fucking business!" I snap, knowing damned right my plans are laid out in the forefront of my thoughts. God damn, it.

A chit chat with your mutt? Set him to his mission and implore that he forgives the torment and torture you're planning on putting him through? Blame it all on me? Innocent little Maddie would -never- hurt her Mongwel. Ha. Oh you are fucking priceless, Maddie.

My temper flares and I spit my next words through gritted teeth. "Stop fucking calling me that."

The Shadow's eyebrow arches. Oh, I'm sorry...is that nickname still off limits? Old Tommy sure seemed to be getting away with it, I only figured... She smiles, the expression cruel on lips that are a mirror image to my own. Right. He's allowed to, now. Because he -cares- about you.

I hate her laughter, it echoes through the woods and my mind. "Fuck. You."

Good comeback, bitch. She settles onto the top step, making herself comfortable. So what's your next move? You and the Giovanni asshole have your resurrection all neatly planned out. We torture your little ex boyfriend until he finds someone to help. Then what? You manage to shake me off and come back to life?

I hate her for bringing this wondering to mind. What does happen if I come back? What will I be? And why is Tommy so fanatical about helping me? He says he wants things back the way they were, but what does he stand to gain from all this? Ulterior motives seem to be Tommy's M.O.

I don't have to look up to know my Shadow is triumphant. I feel myself shrinking, weakening. It's a fight to keep from curling into myself. No, god damn it. I won't let you beat me down. It's not a matter of letting, Maddie. The voice now speaks clearly in the back of my mind. I own you, you're just too dumb to realize it.

"What do you want from me?" I'll add it to my fucking list.

I want you to give in to me. All this stupid, POINTLESS worrying. This back and forth do what everyone else says for your own good bullshit. Just. Let. Go. Release the reins, Maddie. Hand them over to the one that knows you best. You're damned and you know it, so give up the fight. I know how exhausted you are. More than any of them know. More than Mongrel. More than Tommy. Her voice almost sounds kind. More than you even realize. You'll never really be free, after all. Your dear, departed Sire saw to that. The madness and the pain are beaten far too deep into you. And quite frankly, this whole "resurrection" business is a farce. Word gets out that you're fraternizing with Necromancers...your after life is going to become more hell than you can imagine. We don't like that kind of talk. Makes it seem like you're too damned good to be dead. And that's just...

With a tremendous effort comparable to a mental wrecking ball, I shut it...the voice...her up with a shout. "That's enough." I could waste the rest of my eternity listening to that shit. Which is probably the idea. I'm stronger than that. I will make myself stronger than that. There's no barricade this time as I make my way into the cabin. Mongrel is hunched over his desk as usual, the chalky scent of oil pastels permeates the air. I circle him a few times before perching on an adjacent table. I have to do what I have to do. I can't prevent his pain if it means I can't be free. But I can't do this because of someone else's plans. I'm going to do this for me. I faced a cheap, meager death and I'm still fucking here. "I'm still fucking here." With those words, spoken behind the Shroud, I manifest on Mongrel's side. Hands folded in my lap, I wait patiently for his yellow eyes to look up.


End file.
